


In the Sandy Pit

by edgy_fluffball



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Rome, Avengers Feels, Awesome Natasha Romanov, Awesome Sarah Rogers, Blood and Injury, Bruce deserves better but someone needed to be the antagonist, Bucky is a Fighter, Crossbones is the worst, F/M, Gladiator AU, Gladiator!Bucky, Historical References, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, M/M, Mentioning of prostitution, Protective Steve Rogers, Roman Society, Silent but Deadly Bucky, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve is a War Hero, Thoughts on Slavery, Tony Being Tony, gladiator fights
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 09:59:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14446842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edgy_fluffball/pseuds/edgy_fluffball
Summary: After returning from war in Germania, the last thing Steve Rogers wants to see is more fighting, blood and killing. Unfortunately, his new position within the Roman society expects him to witness the gladiatorial games together with other noblemen. However, his resolve to keep out of the affairs of the gladiator schools is put to the test when he must face his new job: deciding which gladiators must fight to entertain the masses.





	In the Sandy Pit

**Author's Note:**

> This story imagines Steve & Co. in high positions within the Roman cursus honorum, initially written for a friend's birthday.  
> Steve is subordinate to Scott, Clint and Tony, and as military tribune an adviser to their politics.  
> I hope this take on a historic setting appeals to some readers.

‘To the youngest military tribune Rome has ever seen!’ Sam lifted his cup and shoved Steve to the side, ‘May his career become the brightest imaginable!’

All of the newly discarded soldiers toasted towards him with their cups, although most of them might not have been able to understand the reason for their toast. Drunken soldiers usually didn’t question things like why they were given more wine.

Steve pushed through the crowd and sat down on one of the benches at the table. Sam followed him, shoving people aside and grunting at them if they didn’t follow.

‘So – what will our new tribune do?’ he asked, sitting down next to Steve who tried to blend in with the shadows.

‘I don’t know. How about you, have you figured out what to do?’

Sam stretched his arms over his head and grinned at his friend, ‘Since I was given a bit of land close to Ostia – close to the sea, of course – and I am a free man right now, I will ask Sharon to marry me. She’ll say yes and we’ll live close to a small town, have lots of kids…and we’ll come visit you! Of course we will, no worries there. Where else should I get slaves for the farm I will have to start?’

Steve sighed and swallowed down another gulp of wine before he shook his head, ‘I don’t like that concept…slaves are people, too. We force them to leave their homes, their families, everything they know – to drag them here. Rome appears ugly once you have seen the green hills of Germania or the blue coasts of Gaul…’

‘You could buy an estate or a villa there easily once you’re high enough,’ Sam said and refilled his cup, ‘Would come in handy once they give out the quaestorships and stadtholder posts, if you already lived there.’

Steve shook his head.

‘There are more satisfying things to buy with the money I will earn. Besides – it’s not too much, you’re thinking of golden jars and slaves to wipe your butt’, he said, ‘When are you going back to see Sharon?’

‘Two days from now. What about you? How are your plans coming along?’

‘I will have to report to my new superior in a few days. And then I will have to find out what exactly I am supposed to do in my new job – I also have to catch up with my mother. I really shouldn’t have left her all alone for so long-‘

‘- but you really had no choice. Conscription, you know. She’ll be fine, I mean…she sent you letters, right?’

Steve nodded slowly. His fellow soldiers were stumbling through the tavern where they all had met up to celebrate their last evening together. It seemed like he and Sam were the last sober ones amongst them.

 

The next morning came with headaches for most of them, but Sam and Steve remained unharmed by the excesses of the bygone evening. All of them gathered in the yard for a last muster before everybody left, heading in different directions. Their last position had been in Ancona, it would take them at least a day to get to Rome and after their time in the army the urge to get home had grown with every single day once an end came in sight.

Steve was exhausted and exited the garrison with his men. It had been too long since he had been to Rome and even longer since he had seen his mother. Sam rode next to him, his horse sensing their excitement. It tippled under his grip.

‘Are you curious about what has changed in Rome since the last time?’

‘I only heard that Tony and Rhodey have been made aediles. They are going to work with me, I guess. We are the ones assigned with the police work and supervision of the military.’

Sam rolled his eyes, ‘You always have to pick the worst and hardest tasks, don’t you! Police enforcement? You’ve got to be out of your mind!’

Steve smiled weakly at him and got his horse to catch up with Sam’s, ‘I just want to be able to take care of my mother. Police enforcement is the best, I get to live in Rome, with her and I will come visit you and Sharon, I promise. I will pray to the gods for Sharon to accept your proposal.’

They rode in silence, following the Tiber as they crossed the country, and arrived at Rome in the early hours of the next morning. They saw off their fellow soldiers who had returned to the city with them. More than half of them had served under Steve and Sam and bid their goodbyes with an air of regret.

‘Where will you go first?’ Steve asked and dismounted his horse, ‘I can’t wait to see my mother again. I hope Flavia has taken good care of her.’

‘Of course! Flavia follows your mother wherever she goes. I got the feeling she’s not really a slave but part of the family to you.’

Steve felt his cheeks go red.

‘And if that was the case? She has helped us a lot after my father died leaving us with not much more than the trade and three house slaves to manage the shop’, he said and greeted the men on watch at the gates.

Sam followed him with his horse, shaking his head at him. He knew how Steve felt about the ever-present slaves in Rome, his father had been like him in this matter, and rumours had spread that he had freed as many slaves as he could afford. Sam only hoped Steve wouldn’t follow this example and spend all his money paying for slaves to be free.

‘Greet your mother when you come home, will you? I can’t wait to see Sharon again’, he said instead and waved at Steve as he made his way down another street where his family lived amongst the patricians.

Steve only had another few corners to round before he could see his family’s town house amongst the other sandstone buildings of their neighbourhood. At the door he was greeted by Accius, the gate keeper, who took care of his horse.

‘Where can I find my mother at this time of the day, Accius? And where is everybody else?’

‘Demetrius is manning the shop, milord, Secundus is in the kitchen and Flavia is with the mistress. Your mother is in her chambers.’

Steve nodded and stroked his horse for a last time before stepping into the domus.

‘Master Steve,‘ Accius added quickly, ‘it is good to know you safely back here. Your mother has been worried sick…not in the literal way of course! We all are glad you’re back.’

‘Thank you, Accius,’ Steve smiled, ‘I am grateful for being back here, too.’

He made his way through the atrium and towards the bedchambers where only a curtain divided the room his mother occupied from his own study.

‘Mother?’ he asked and gently pulled the curtain to the side, ‘I am home.’

The sun fell through the window, softened by the thin green leafs of the wine ranks outside that grew there, in the gardens. One of her rays lit up the wood of the furniture his mother was resting upon, her head placed on an embroidered cushion, and her slim hands holding a piece of parchment. Next to her, Flavia rose from her seat to greet him, already pouring a cup of wine for him.

‘Steve – is that really you? You look all grown up and manly, my boy. Come closer, my dear, let me see my son, back from war and military. Bring us something to eat, Flavia, and tell Secundus we’ll have guests tonight-‘

‘Mother-‘

‘I will hear nothing of it, Steve, we will eat and feast tonight for the gods have brought my son back home safely,’ she nodded a dismissal at Flavia, who left the room with a smirk on her lips and a wink directed at Steve.

‘Mother – we shouldn’t! A feast costs too much, I can’t ask of you to take expenses like that onto your shoulders!’

‘Steve – what are you talking about? You were gone for ten years, my boy, ten years that left me to take care of the mess your father made. He was a man with a big heart and good manners but his sense of trade…’, she chuckled lightly. ‘After you were gone Demetrius and I worked on improving everything. We were successful. Our name means something again, my sweet boy. Of course I had lots of help, you remember the Stark family? Their son and his friends helped me, for the sake of you returning to the position you should inherit. We don’t have to count sesterces anymore. My lovely boy, Steve – they ought to know you are back and well. They deserve to see their friend seated amongst them again. All we ever heard was that the soldiers would come home. Not who, not when – and yet here you are. They will be here tonight, I insist on it and Tony asked for this personally, he will not have it otherwise. You are the new military tribune after all.’

Steve felt his cheeks go red, ‘Is it true, mother? Oh glorious days! I will have to sacrifice to the gods for this turn, for my safe return here and for my mother being the strongest person I know.’

She lifted herself from the bed and hugged him, her skinny arms not quite long enough to reach his neck. Steve bowed his head to allow her to hold him closer.

‘How are you though, mother?’ he asked.

She sighed and rubbed his back, ‘There are good days and there are bad ones. If I can not get up, Thor and Loki help me and Flavia brews a potion to soothe the pain. It is just my bones, Steve, if I can not walk anymore I will sit in a chair or use a sedan. But I’ll never give up.’

Steve hid his face in her hair and allowed himself to breathe in her familiar scent. Ten years in the army and he still was a little boy in his mother’s arms.

‘You know I am really happy for you being here again’, she whispered into his ears, ‘please, Steve, let me make this day special for you.’

 

Steve was introduced to the new slaves his mother had bought, most of them had been in the shop with Demetrius, in the garden or in the kitchen – places where they never had had any servants before he left. Most of the new ones, he learnt, had found love and families amongst them, with the youngest being a boy of two years, born under his mother’s roof to two of the souls she had taken in.

‘You really forged a small place of happiness, mother,’ Steve said and ruffled the boy’s dark hair, ‘Thank you.’

‘For what, my boy?’ she asked and smiled at him, leaning on his arm.

‘You allow them to be their own persons, have families, live without being harassed or abused…,’ Steve said, ‘You are kind to them. I only wish we could do more.’

‘You do a lot already, Steve, my darling. And you will do a lot more once you start working with Tony and Rhodey. As long as the people who keep me company here are happy, I will be happy and that should be the most important thing for you to remember.’

They made their way into the gardens, Steve helped his mother onto the marble bench next to the fountain and sat down beside her looking at the statue of Minerva on its top. His father had prayed to the goddess to help his son grow up to be a wise warrior, not one who just bluntly killed and followed orders, but one who lead and weighed the situation and consequences his actions would have.

He knew that his mother still prayed for all these reasons, for him to join the cursus honorum and to become a military leader, politician and overall honourable man.

‘They will want to talk about business tonight, mother,’ Steve said quietly, ‘and I will have to join their conversation. Thanks for that.’

His mother took his hand in hers, ‘Of course you will have to. The army will not have stripped all your manners from it, won’t it? You will survive a dinner; that is all I can ask from you on your first day back in the city. Do you need to rest until then? A new tunic? The old ones won’t fit you any longer, you have grown so much.’

‘I can just wear Dad’s, right? He had my stature.’

‘Why, I think your shoulders are broader than yours, but we can try it’, his mother suggested, ‘You will need more anyways. Once you join dinner parties again you will need to take care of your appearance. How about you go to the baths with your friends to get back in touch, I’m sure they would join you. You need to socialize, make new contacts…politics is as much about friends and connections as it is about your own decisions. It is important for the great families to do as much socially approved activities, as possible.’

‘Mother…’

‘And yes – that includes gladiator fights. You need to be seen by the public, otherwise the people won’t acknowledge you or your position.’

Steve sighed and rested his head on his mother’s shoulder. Her fingers tangled into his hair he was able to calm down a bit from the anxiety that had crawled down his spine.

‘I’m not good with people and the public. You know that, mother.’

‘And yet they made you the new military tribune. There has to be a reason to this decision other than you being a friend of Tony.’

‘His father is consul. You can bet there aren’t many other reasons why,’ Steve said and let his thumb circle on the back of her hand.

‘He may be – that makes it even more important for you to be at your best behaviour tonight. You should rest, my dear,’ she waved and Flavia appeared in the doorway to the garden.

‘The master’s chambers have been prepared and a tub with warm water stands ready for him,’ she said, her eyes cast down at her hands folded in front of her tunic.

‘Oh mother…,’ Steve said, ‘what would I do without you? I’m going to see you tonight, my dearest mother.’

 

~*~

 

He arrived at the dining room at the exact time his mother had summoned him. She stood amidst the slaves preparing the cots for their guests, Flavia at her side and Secundus, who seemed to have escaped the kitchen for once, to lean onto.

‘Master,’ he shouted, ‘we need your opinion on the seat arrangements, the food and the slaves carrying the courses.’

‘I’m sure you are way better at this than me, Secundus. You have always been better at this and we all know that, just…carry on with the preparations and I am sure everything will be just splendid,’ Steve said and took a goblet of wine offered to him by a young house slave.

His mother rested an arm on his and placed her other hand on his cheek, ‘I am so very proud of you, Steve, and I am sure your father would feel the same seeing you returned from the army and in your position.’

‘He would be proud of us both, mother, for I wouldn’t have had a home to come back to without your determination to keep the trade,’ Steve pressed a kiss to his mother’s cheek and rearranged his toga just in time before another slave came into the room, announcing the arrival of their guests.

Tony and Rhodey entered the room in their known loud and carefree manner, hugging Steve and letting him know just how relieved they were to see him safely back in Rome. The other guests – Scott, a young consul, and good friends to Steve and the family, followed.

They took their couches, Steve noticed how relieved his mother looked once she wasn’t expected to stand any longer.

‘How many courses can we expect tonight?’ Tony asked, his mouth already stuffed with the olives a slave presented on a tray.

‘Five,’ Steve’s mother replied, ‘Since neither of us felt particularly like spending the rest of the week starving after a feast like you would have it.’

‘I like your mother, Steve, did I ever mention that?’

‘Only every time you meet, Tony,’ Steve sighed, ‘Do I need to worry you might kidnap her?’

‘And destroy your reputation for the whole city? Never!’

‘Speaking of reputation,’ Rhodey chipped in, ‘when are you going to join us for the gladiator fights, now that you’re back?’

Steve tried not to frown at this. Their party was made up of the most popular and rich young men in Rome with only his mother present to represent the female sex. She smirked knowingly at him over the edge of her goblet. Of course she knew what he thought of gladiator fights, put on for the entertainment of the masses.

‘Bruce has purchased new slaves, haven’t you, sweetheart?’ Tony inquired and every attention now rested on Bruce, a silent man with stern features and dark hair who always looked like he was brooding. The truth was that he worried, constantly.

‘Clint said you had some wildlings from the north?’ Scott asked and stuffed his mouth with roast pork, ‘Tell us about them. I want to know whom to bet on next time.’

Bruce shifted on his couch and cleared his throat, ‘Well, there is a new _murmillo_ , another _Thracian_ , two whip masters and – well, if I said I managed to add a special jewel in my team it would be an understatement. He can fight with literally everything you hand him, it is wonderful to watch him fight, he is…unconventional and beautiful in his every move. Like he doesn’t have anything to lose.’

‘He doesn’t,’ Steve snapped.

‘Where is he from? Those fighters who fight with that much passion always have a story. Is it heartbreaking?’ Tony asked excitedly and leaned closer to Bruce, ‘Please tell me it’s heartbreaking!’

Steve didn’t really care for Bruce’s fighters, Bruce himself wasn’t a person he was around without reservations. A man who earned his money with other men’s lives and wellbeing wasn’t the company he wanted to keep.

Bruce looked around, fiddled with the seam of his toga and nodded towards Tony, ‘He is a Sarmatian tribe’s prince, as far as I am informed. They are fierce warriors who fear neither death nor defeat. As their prince he has been trained in the handling of any weapon and the use of every as weapon usable object to the highest degree.’

‘That sounds wonderful,’ Tony shouted, ‘a deadly assassin from Sarmatia! Is it true what they say about them? That they are silent and only speak to say a prayer for those they have killed? My father was sent to Sarmatia once and came back impressed by their culture, actually. To him it appeared like they were able to understand and speak Latin, have knowledge of our traditions and culture and worship the god of death and war. Being a gladiator must be like heaven to him!’

Bruce furrowed his brow, ‘Is that so? We had to lock him into a cell of his own because he threatened to kill everybody we’d put with him. He refuses to train with the others and sits by himself for hours, not talking, just watching them. Marcellus, whom I made the new warden, promised him he would only have to fight in the arena, I don’t know what possessed him to do it. Of course Crossbones wasn’t satisfied with that. He wants to kill him training more than in front of people – as if he wants to keep the experience of decapitating him to himself and not have to share it with the audience.’

Steve felt a cold shiver creep down his spine, ‘Are they all like that? Bloodthirsty men who only think of murder, killing and blood?’

‘Oh Stevie-boy,’ Tony grinned, ‘You have been gone a long time. Tell us, Bruce, how many of your men are fighting slaves or prisoners of war?’

‘Seven,’ Bruce said.

‘Seven. And how many do you have in your possession? Overall, of course.’

‘Seventy,’ Bruce said, his lips quirked up in a grin.

‘Seventy?’ Steve asked, ‘How is that possible?’

‘They volunteered, Steve. Most of them were soldiers in the wars, men who can’t get enough of the thrill of blood and gore. It isn’t enough for them to just win – a fight now ends with at least three bodies bleeding in the sand and the crowd loves it.’

‘You know that’s not the truth,’ Scott chipped in, ‘there are people who just sit there to be seen by the public, and as soon as blood can be seen they vomit in the seats. Not everybody enjoys bloodshed and killing, Tony.’

‘You are not everybody, Scott,’ Rhodey said, ‘But to come back to Crossbones – he was in the army until he was discharged dishonourably, wasn’t he?’

‘I think I heard about that. What was he discharged for?’ Steve asked, ‘Killing his brothers in arms?’

‘Killing the enemy…after they surrendered,’ Rhodey finished gloomily, ‘there is nobody who could defeat him until now. Whoever has to face him in a fight should have made his peace beforehand.’

‘The crowds despise of him but celebrate him on the other hand for his skill and readiness to entertain them,’ Scott whispered.

Steve shook his head, ‘I have seen enough violence and bloodshed in the wars. I wish to be a military tribune known for wise decisions and peaceful solutions. That doesn’t fit in the picture you’re painting, all of us watching the fights.’

‘Of course it doesn’t,’ Tony sighed, ‘but take Scott here – consul, orator and still not able to control his stomach at the sight of blood. He sits in the audience every time there are fights in the arena just because it is expected of him. You will find that a lot of Rome’s greatest share this feeling. It is your obligation, however, to take part in official events and make an appearance as it is expected of us, too.’

Steve could see his mother nod in approval, although her eyes didn’t match this consent.

‘Will you pair Crossbones with that young man you spoke of, Bruce?’ she asked, ‘It has been a while since I went to see the fights but with Steve at my side I might find the strength to leave the house again.’

‘I might just do that. Although it would be a waste of a good fighter, no matter who wins,’ Bruce agreed.

Tony lifted his goblet to a toast, ‘It is decided then! Our party shall go and see the next fights between Bruce’s gladiators!’

They toasted, with Scott grimacing at Steve, both of them obviously not keen on this pastime. Their conversation afterwards circled around the price of marble and gold, the right sacrifice for Steve to bring before the gods – they decided on a young bull and wine to cover the bases – and the new baths, which they agreed to test within the next weeks.

Steve always kept one eye on his mother who herself didn’t let him out of her sight. Her smile gave him the strength to cope with Tony’s loud manner and demanding presence. He dealt with him like he had always done: give him something to talk about and then speak with Scott instead. It had been like this since their first day in school when their teacher had pretended not to mind their whispering.

 

It was late when they finally bid their farewell, Bruce promised to let them know when the next fights would take place and Tony insisted on treating all of them to another dinner at his father’s house. He also asked Rhodey and Steve to come by the next day to discuss business with him.

 

~*~

 

He had not expected to be told about a fight by the very next week when he arrived at the ostentatious house of the Stark family to report to Tony and Rhodey about his debut as military tribune. Tony himself delivered the message with a gleeful smile on his face.

‘Bruce sent a messenger. There will be a fight between Crossbones and his Sarmatian prince for the next _ludi Romani_. We aediles have organised it again to keep the people on our side before the next uprising tries to get rid of us all – so, today we have received the answer all gladiator schools sent us. Bruce will give us every slave he can in order to make the celebrations ones to be remembered. Crossbones and the newcomer will be the highlight of the fights. The people either root for Crossbones because he spills the blood of their enemies, or they will root for the newcomer, if he is as good as Bruce says he is. Of course we will need to assess his strength and skill before advertising him as Crossbones’ opponent.’

‘Of course,’ Steve sighed, ‘I take it ‘we’ means Rhodey and you?’

‘And you, of course! You are the one with the military training and ability best suited to judge a fighter.’

Steve rolled his eyes and sat down in the chair Tony offered him, ‘You want me to tell you whether this man is worthy of the fight? Worthy of death in the sands of the arena? I cannot do this, Tony!’

‘You have already done that, don’t you remember? Centurion? Isn’t tactic placement of soldiers the same as judging whether someone is worthy to fight or whether he should be placed at the back to keep him alive one more day without honour and glory?’

He didn’t know what to respond to that. Tony certainly had a point.

‘Even more so, if the majority of them volunteered to fight. Most of your soldiers were young men, brothers, sons, snatched from their families, their mothers and sisters. If they die, parents have to find a new solution to who will inherit the responsibilities of a family leader, if they live they are lucky bastards. Do I need to remind you of how devastated your own mother was when you left her to go to Germania for your first training mission? All of us thought we had seen the last of you, why, with your reckless behaviour and your tendencies to get yourself into trouble as a boy. Yet here you are.’

‘Tell me when to come. I’ll come and look at him. But I don’t want it to be a meat market. Those men fought our troops with dignity, they don’t deserve to be looked at like the floosies of the subura,’ Steve said, ‘Invite Bruce and his men, provide meat and drink – but not like the funeral banquet they’ll get before the fight starts. They still do that, right? A meal, where all interested parties can look at them and decide whom they are going to bet on?’

‘Of course they do,’ Tony exclaimed, ‘How else should the rich and fat of this city be allowed to feast their eyes on good-looking young men, handsomer and fitter than they ever will be!’

Steve rolled his eyes at him but Tony just cocked one eyebrow, ‘Lots of them would actually pay for a night with a stealthy young gladiator. Well…they do. Pay for it, I mean. It’s a good additional income for the gladiator schools. Bruce pays for a lot of the weapons and armour his gladiators use and break with what the younger ones work for throughout the late and dark hours of the night. Sometimes the screams in a gladiator school are louder and more ecstatic than in the brothels down at the harbour. Rich people demand attention and fulfilment of their wishes at all times.’

‘They also are voluptuous pigs. I have seen the high ranking at the military camps, surrounded by girls, more than one at the time…all the while they were talking about important strategies. I despise this arrogance…’

Tony looked at him in surprise. His friend looked darker and grimmer than ever before.

‘Just remember one thing, Steve – you can’t safe everybody. Your job is all you need to concern yourself with, do you hear me?’

Steve nodded and rose again, ‘I will see you when Bruce comes with his fighters. Just…don’t expect me to approve of it all, because that is never going to happen.’

 

~*~

 

‘When will you return, my dear?’

Steve looked back at his mother before mounting his horse, ‘I don’t know yet. Tony expects me to assess Bruce’s gladiators. He will feed them and I am to look out for weaknesses or whether they are worthy of fighting.’

‘I’m sure you will find the right ones, my sweet boy,’ she said, smiling at him, ‘I will tell Secundus to keep something to eat for you, in case Tony forgets to get you something in his excited state.’

Steve bent down to kiss her on the crown of her head, ‘Thank you, mother.’

He rode through the streets, only accompanied by Thor and Loki, two Germanic slaves whom his mother had set up as his guards, no matter how much he protested and told her he was skilled enough to defend himself, even without a weapon in hand.

‘Rome has changed, my star,’ she had said, ‘Take them with you, just to make me feel better about this. Let them carry torches on your way back if it is after nightfall but take them with you.’

The two broad figures followed his horse, Thor whistling a melody, Loki quietly talking to his horse in one of the dialects Steve had picked up during his time with the army. He liked the two men. Demetrius had told him that they usually carried his mother’s litter and acted as her lifeguards when she was making social calls or went to meet her friends. The Greek slave had acted as shopkeeper and steward for his family as long as he could remember, until he had grown to become a confidant and friend, more than a servant and slave.

‘This Tony,’ Thor said eventually, ‘is he an important man in Rome?’

‘You have to say ‘master’, you moron,’ Loki snarled.

‘Don’t say ‘master’,’ Steve said, ‘I don’t want you to call me master. You were soldiers, I take it, in Germania? Both of you?’

‘We don’t belong to the same tribe, mas – we don’t really get along, don’t we, Loki?’ Thor grinned, ‘I am a Cherusci, he is a Marsi. We fought alongside once, against you Romans. But beside that we are mortal enemies, right, Loki?’

Loki grinned and made a face at Thor, ‘What he didn’t say was that we were sold to your mother as cheap workers. She gave us more opportunities to flee and go back than one could imagine. But by the time we learned that no one would take back a slave fled from your house we already had met each other. We were enemies once, then brothers in arms – and all of a sudden Rome expected us to be enemies again after the war. We have our differences but by now we are friends.’

‘Who knows, we might even return to Germania once we are released, if we were. But our honour forbids us to leave the lady who gave us the peace we wouldn’t have had at home. No matter how many opportunities to run away she gives us,’ Thor added, ‘we owe her.’

Loki nodded in earnest.

‘I thank you for your services to my mother. I feel better knowing her with you two as her protection when I am not there,’ Steve said.

‘‘t was long enough you were gone,’ Thor muttered, ‘You were a soldier, right? Where were you fighting? You Romans fight everywhere but not all fights bring the same honour. Some of your opponents aren’t worth the masses of soldiers sent to fight them.’

Steve felt his cheeks redden.

‘I was stationed in Novaesium,’ he said and straightened his posture.

‘Germania!’ Loki barked, ‘The master of our new household was stationed in Germania! Did you fight against us, did you kill Germanics?’

Steve looked at him in awe. The man didn’t seem to be about to lunge himself at him just because he had fought his people. He was laughing full-throated.

‘Thor – what do you say to that?’

‘I say that we could have ended up at worse places. He has been a fighter, as have we. He fought honourably, so did we. I’m just glad he wasn’t one of the men who killed my family. That would make it harder for me to look at him every day. But we have been defeated in honest battle, I hold no grim against a soldier as skilled as he must be.’

Steve let out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

‘Now – this Tony…’

‘He is one of the aediles. He and the other aediles are in charge of the minor administration processes around the republic. In a way one could say he is my superior. Another task of his is to arrange for the games in the Colosseum. Which is where I come in the picture, because he needs me to assess the strength and readiness of the gladiators picked for the upcoming ludi Romani.’

‘What is that?’ Thor asked.

‘The games the aediles arrange for the people. They want to stay in their good graces and gain their support for the future,’ Steve explained.

‘So you could say…those aediles are bumsuckers?’ Loki noted.

Steve sighed, ‘One could indeed say that, yes. But it has been like that for a long time. Those of rank need to keep the people entertained, otherwise there would be revolutions and uproar amongst the least of them.’

Thor and Loki shook their heads.

Steve didn’t get the chance to explain the Roman customs to the two Germanics since they arrived at the Stark house where they were greeted by the door guard.

‘Take me to your master and see to the horses. My guards will have something to eat in your kitchen,’ he said and nodded towards the two men behind him.

‘As you command,’ the door guard said, ‘Dawud will lead you.’

A Nubian slave bowed in front of Steve, ‘Master Tony awaits you already. Follow me, I will lead you to see your party.’

Steve would have found them without the slave. Tony’s loud voice and the laughter of other Roman noblemen was a sound he couldn’t have missed, even if he hadn’t known the house before. They were gathered in the great dining room where the couches were placed in a half circle in front of a long table overflowing with fruit, roast meat and in honey baked delicacies. A line of men in simple leather clothing and tunics stood behind that table in a straight line. Two of them wore loincloths, none of them was armed. They were of different skin colours, their hair was parted, braided and groomed in different ways and their faces bore different features marking their origin.

‘Steve, there you are! Have a seat, drink some wine with us and pray, tell us why you came so late!’ Tony shouted, his eyes already glassy and his cheeks reddened with the effects of a lot of wine before dinner.

‘I thank you for your hospitality, Tony but I can not drink the wine you are offering,’ Steve smiled, ‘for I didn’t come for a banquet. Offer the wine meant for me to the gods or let those brave men have a drink on me. They endure enough pain and horror to allow them to dull their senses for one evening.’

‘Is that why you wouldn’t let me show you my men two days before the games?’ Bruce asked from where he was sitting, ‘to keep them from weakening themselves this close to the fights?’

‘That, and because Tony wanted to advertise the games on a grand scale,’ Steve answered, ‘I take it I was the last one to arrive?’

He looked Tony in the eye, ‘Why aren’t they eating? I told you-‘

‘No worries, my dear Steve,’ Tony nodded towards Bruce, Bruce nodded towards Marcellus; the warden barked something at the gladiators, who sank to their knees and greeted their hosts.

‘Eat, drink, do not worry about your lives being at risk once the games start – tonight you dine and live,’ Tony declared and lifted his cup, ‘Don’t pay attention to us. All we do is look at you and judge your abilities.’

The aediles laughed at this but Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes at him. He looked at the gladiators who now sat down at the table and filled their plates. Each and every one of them looked like he could fight a great deal before being defeated or killed by one of the others. They also looked like they hadn’t seen food enough for all of them in a long time.

Steve suspected they were only given enough to stay healthy and just about adequately strong and ready for a fight, but only the banquet, immediately before the games started, provided enough for them to be sated. But Steve did not only see fighters. He noticed the signs. He saw the young boy with marks around his necks, like he had been held down by hands around it; another one who didn’t look comfortably seated, even on the pillow on his chair. What Tony had told him, clawed its way back into his consciousness and made him feel sick to his stomach. Could it really be that even Bruce sold his fighters to those longing for a man’s body?

‘So – which one of them is Crossbones?’ Steve asked in the attempt to distract his mind.

‘Oh my dear Steve – ten years across the empire have taken a toll on your common knowledge of the Roman republic…,’ Tony laughed, ‘Over there, the greatest of them.’

Steve followed his gaze and saw a fighter, clothed in armour of hardened leather with metal clasps. He wore his hair cut short, pulled away from his face. Not one strand would come anywhere close to his eyes when he was fighting, there was nothing to obstruct his vision. His features resembled the dark clouds before a thunderstorm, his eyes were watching every single movement around him, Steve could see that. Every weakness was known to him.

‘He looks fierce, doesn’t he?’ Bruce asked, stepping closer to Steve, ‘What do you think?’

‘He’s fit to fight – of course he is. How about your other gladiators?’

Bruce grinned wolfishly, ‘Could we interest you at last?’

‘I am doing my job, Bruce, as it is expected of me. Show me your men, tell me about them, how they fight, what their strengths are, what weapons they prefer…how long they have been in your school. All of the details you don’t tell other clients.’

Bruce muttered something not understandable but did as Steve had asked him to do. He introduced them one by one, told him the details of their fighting strategy and let them perform little rehearsals of their movement, urging them to stand up, show Steve their arms and hands only to sit back down at the table again.

‘Very well, Bruce,’ Steve said soberly, his face unmoved, ‘Thank you.’

‘But – hey, Steve!’ Bruce called out, beckoning Tony over towards them, ‘You haven’t seen my Sarmatian yet.’

‘Oh, the Sarmatian!’ Tony called, ‘How clever of you to keep him until now. We are bursting with anticipation, dear Bruce. Can I see him? Please?’

Steve rolled his eyes. Tony was nothing more than a spoilt child when it came to things like these. Bruce knew that as much as Steve, and keeping this particular fighter from his attention meant lively interest once he revealed him.

Steve didn’t need Bruce to point out a Samartian fighter to him. The tribes of the East had come to the Germanian’s aid once, they had fought bravely but didn’t succeed in the end, with their leader dead and the survivors kept prisoners of the Roman republic.

Steve had been there. He knew their long, dark hair, the light eyes and skin tone, kissed by the sun they lived under, every single day spent fighting to survive, wandering over grass seas to keep their people alive along with their cattle and horses.

He knew their armour, made of leather and light metal – light enough to be carried by a horse without slowing it down, and strong enough to keep them safe, guarded from swords and daggers.

He knew how stern their looks and features were, how effortless they expressed their general disinterest in their surroundings. He had seen the emotionless expression that had accompanied deadly thrusts and blows.

He knew the slim looks of calves and arms, trained to have a deadly effect; the gentle bow of luscious lips and the spark, the never extinguishing spark in their eyes when they had the opportunity to fight. The opportunity to kill.

The man standing in the shadows appeared to be inspecting his fingernails when Marcellus approached him. Steve wasn’t fooled by it. This man had observed their every move ever since he had entered the room, and he had taken in everything, even before Crossbones had. He had evaluated their knowledge, experience and skill and had arranged them in an order, an order that would allow him to kill them all one by one and to escape unharmed afterwards.

‘Master,’ Marcellus said reluctantly, ‘He won’t eat.’

‘What do you mean, he won’t eat?’ Tony asked, ‘We have spread out the most delicious, experience and exquisite food in the whole of Rome and your Samartian doesn’t eat it?’

Bruce stepped closer to the warrior and locked his look with his, ‘Why don’t you eat, slave? It is offered to you.’

‘I am not a guest in this house,’ the man said in a hushed, raw tone. His voice was accent free.

‘What did you say?’ Bruce’s voice sounded dangerously calm.

Behind him Marcellus reached for the whip in his belt.

‘I said I am not a guest in this house, you are not my host. Why should I eat where I am not welcome?’

‘How dare you-‘

Steve cleared his throat. He took a stand next to Bruce and let his gaze linger on the man in front of him, whose posture had taken on something he could not grasp.

‘He is right.’

‘But – Steve, tribune!’ Tony exclaimed.

‘I can’t disagree, Tony. Marcellus, tell me – are you Roman by birth or Roman by name? I take it you are a former gladiator yourself?’

‘By name, mylord. I was awarded the Roman citizenship when I was set free,’ Bruce’s warden answered quietly.

‘And do you feel like a Roman next to us? Speak freely, no harm will come to you,’ Steve said inquiringly.

‘You are Romans by birth, for me it is nothing but my name that makes me one, for I was born in Gaul. Beside you I feel the difference and would not dare call me one of you.’

Steve nodded and turned to his friends again.

‘You see? I can’t hold it against this man that he feels so strongly about being a guest – or not so – in this house. But since I don’t believe that you will receive any food back at the quarters, I can only advise you to eat now’, Steve said, turned back around and motioned towards the table for the man without batting an eye.

The gladiator sized him up with another look before moving to sit down at the furthest end of the table. Even then he didn’t eat from the plentiful roast but took some fruits and soup in a steaming bowl.

‘I can’t tell whether this is a trick to lure us into believing he doesn’t care about his life or death, or just his demeanour. He hasn’t picked a name to fight under, yet, and Marcellus asks him every day. He just doesn’t answer – even if we threat him with the whip!’ Bruce exclaimed.

‘You shouldn’t threat him,’ Steve said calmly, ‘You said he was a tribe leader? Of course he won’t back down to you. He is a fighter, thoroughly. A soldier if anything.’

Steve looked back to the table. The gladiators held their heads low, ducked over their plates – all except one.

His eyes didn’t leave Steve that night.

 

‘So what do you say?’ Tony wanted to know when Steve sent one of the slaves to get the horses and tell Thor and Loki they were leaving.

‘I’d say they all are ready for the arena. Bruce knows them better than I ever could, he should pair them up and resolve the fighting order. I’m going to return home, my mother shouldn’t be alone at this time of the night. Not after I have finally come back.’

He bid his farewell from the aediles and mounted his horse. Loki and Thor now carried torches to light up their way home.

‘Are there any good fighters among them?’ Loki asked, ‘The lady mentioned something about it.’

‘I can’t judge that from the way they are eating,’ Steve sighed, ‘I just hope Rome will learn how to entertain itself without bloodshed during peaceful times. We really should get along without barbaric killings once a month when there is no real need for it.’

Thor looked at him with a cocked eyebrow, ‘Will those fat men sitting in the arena think like you? Don’t they enjoy bathing in the glory of long gone war stories as well? Why should they give up the rush it gives one to see another man die just because they aren’t any longer the ones wielding the sword?’

Steve didn’t answer. He couldn’t bring himself to agree out loud with this. It was his people they were talking about.

Again, they rode in silence, arriving at the domus without trouble. One of the stable slaves took the horses and Steve sent Thor and Loki to their quarters.

He was tempted to ask them if they had found a girl amongst the slaves like many of his mother’s servants seemed to have, but something stopped him from asking. Maybe it was the way Loki leaned into Thor as they made their way through the darkness, towards their accommodations.

Of course he knew the stories. Fellow soldiers had spoken about Germanics who would keep each other warm and company in a camp during wartimes. Even Romans spoke about a bond like this approvingly. There couldn’t be anything stronger than love to work towards a goal. Roman soldiers fought for their beloved empire in the same way tribesmen gathered once they were attacked to fight for their freedom and the freedom of their families, their loved ones.

Love, so Steve had learned, was a far greater motivator than fear – or even revenge.

Although, Steve thought, most acts of revenge were committed in order to avenge a loved person.

He couldn’t find sleep that night, haunted by the memories of the wars he had fought and the thoughts about how many fathers, brothers and husbands had fallen from his sword and spear.

They all had been loved by someone. The more he thought about it, the clearer it appeared to him that he had robbed them from something special, something he hadn’t experienced since he had left his mother’s house.

Did the gods punish him for killing those men who hadn’t done anything but defend their freedom? Did they not grant him the same love as those men had experienced at home before they fought in a useless war? Was this how Steve was to repent for his sins? By not having a family to call his own?

Sam had Sharon, Tony was rumoured to be as good as engaged and Scott had a bastard daughter already – what was wrong with Steve that he didn’t even spare a look at the girls following him once he walked through the city?

He knew it. Deep down he knew that he could not provide happiness for a Roman girl who would not have endured the feeling the war had left Steve with. Being the youngest centurion and military tribune the republic had ever seen came at a price.

Where he had been reckless before, he now thought about the consequences of his actions, ever since his recklessness had meant fifty men dead because he had not arranged for scouts to be sent out beforehand.

One of the young soldiers he had sent out had looked at him in awe before, admiring the young centurion, wishing to be like him. He had looked at him with those clear, blue eyes…

Blue eyes like the Sarmatian had.

Steve felt like he needed to punch something.

 

~*~

 

The day of the games came without Steve noticing a shift in the daily behaviour of Rome. It still was loud, hot and sweaty but that was the usual on the forum Romanum. Farmers shouted, women chatted, children played tag and slaves shouted at each other for delaying them, and therefore their master’s business.

Only, when he arrived at the Colosseum he noticed something being different. Although the games would not start for another three hours there were men already trying to get in to safe a good spot, women discussing the likelihood of the sand being turned red within minutes and the chances of there being wild beasts. Steve pushed past some school boys who had either skipped class or had been dismissed early due to the games. He came across an engraved marble plate announcing the fights to be expected closing with the bigger notification of

 

‘CROSSBONES VS THE SOLDIER – Fight to Death’.

 

Steve felt himself exhale sharply. ‘The Soldier’ – had he heard what he had said to Bruce and Tony? He couldn’t explain it to himself otherwise.

When he entered the building, he learned that the guards did know the new military tribune already without having seen him before. They greeted him and he was lead towards the place on the gallery where the aediles would sit and watch. Tony and his friends were there, already drinking and laughing about what they would witness that afternoon.

‘Steve! There you are – didn’t you bring your lovely mother?’

‘She will join us later, Tony. Why should she come now when all there is are men drinking too much wine under the sun?’

‘Oh yes, right, we need the awnings! We can’t let the people’s brains be cooked by the sun. Can you arrange that for us, Clint?’

Clint, a pale, skinny quaestor of plebeian heritage, ran off.

‘You shouldn’t do that, Tony,’ Steve scolded him, ‘he actually is higher in rank than I am. I should be the one being shooed about.’

‘But you were the one to inspect the gladiators. The Roman people owe you more gratefulness than Clint!’

‘They don’t even know I exist. Within the next days I might be deployed to lead an army and never return. The only people mourning would be you, my mother and Scott really. Maybe some of our house slaves will join you because I won’t be able to set them free then.’

‘You sell yourself short,’ Scott said from where he sat with the other consuls, ‘I can’t imagine a man as loved by many as you are. Soldiers, consuls, patricians and plebeians would follow your body through the streets. You never got that triumphal procession, did you?’

‘We were sent to Iberia the next day. Why are you asking?’

Scott rose and adjusted his toga, ‘Because the people truly wanted to celebrate you. They wanted to celebrate their war hero who had just lost a whole legion and managed to defeat the Germanics nonetheless. You were not here but the name of your house is known to everyone in Rome now. And that wasn’t due to your father’s trade. Yes, by now your oil is the best you can get in the whole city and your mother is a good trader who knows every trick there is – but even with Tony’s help she didn’t rise, until everybody got to know that she is the mother of Steve Rogers, the damn bastard who made Rome breathe again. So – you picking the gladiators is a great deal actually!’

Steve didn’t respond to that. In his mind he was relieving every moment on the battlefield, fatally wounded Romans, younger than him, Germanic tribesmen who died screaming for their non-present wives and children to run, to run and never return, all to save themselves. To escape the unforgiving wrath of the Roman army.

Blood and gore, screams of pain and horror, and he had been there. Not like other centurions, sitting on horseback on a hill, watching – he had been there, in the first row to fight with his men. They had liked him and were loyal to his banner.

‘Steve?’ Tony took a seat next to him and watched him inquiringly, ‘You look like you just saw a ghost.’

‘Many ghosts,’ Steve said, ‘more than any man can count.’

He looked down on the sand where in less then two hours men would be fighting for their lives. It looked peaceful and he was somewhat relieved that there wouldn’t be any animals involved in the gladiator’s fight.

‘We all die for a course, right, Tony?’ he said, ‘A course the gods might not even reveal to us before we die. It seems so useless. Those men will die but for what course? To entertain a people sick of itself, and the rush and slavering addiction watching a man die brings. This is no honourable death.’

‘They are slaves, Steve,’ Tony tried to say but Steve interrupted him.

‘Slaves are humans, too. They had a life before they had the misfortune to meet us Romans. If we are defeated, our enemies kill us – it is way better to die than to face your fate as a slave, worth less than the beasts. We take what is human from them and let them work for us but if we were in their place, they would meet us with respect and grant us death to meet our gods in honour.’

Tony sighed, ‘War hasn’t done you any good, my friend. Those thoughts you have – it sounds like you take a pity in them.’

‘I do,’ Steve said, ‘because I met them and their kind in the battlefield, I got to know them and their traditions, and what I learned I am grateful for.’

‘War hasn’t done you any good,’ was all Tony said and stepped away, leaving Steve to look out over the arena towards the lattice gate where the gladiators would step onto the sand.

‘He has picked a name,’ Bruce took the spot Tony had vacated.

‘Hm?’

‘My Sarmatian. He came to me the morning after the banquet, before training started and just said ‘I am the Soldier’. That was all. Well – besides us calling him that in the school as well. The other gladiators picked it up and called him Soldier, Marcellus and my slaves joined in and now…,’ Bruce laughed nervously, ‘now he is Soldier.’

Steve placed his chin in his palm.

‘Do you think it wise?’ he asked, ‘To let Crossbones and Soldier fight today? And on Life or Death base as well?’

‘It certainly is a waste to lose one of them,’ Bruce said thoughtfully, ‘But Crossbones is determined to fight and Soldier…he doesn’t really get along with the training. To be honest it wouldn’t be too much of a loss, if I didn’t take him back to the school tonight.’

Steve didn’t say anything more but that was not needed anyways.

The gates were opened and the people of Rome entered the Coliseum. The crowd seemed cheerful and excited for the games, something Tony recognised as good and desirable.

‘If they are happy, we are happy,’ he said and sat down again, ‘We are expecting more guests for the loge, right?’

‘They are being led up here by now, master Tony,’ one of the slaves told him, just before Steve’s mother entered the platform, leaning on the arm of a young woman dressed in the latest fashioned tunic. Her arms, neck and dark red were decorated with filigree gold jewellery and gemstones, all attuned with the dark green colour of her tunic. She looked for Steve’s mother to reach her seat without stumble before turning to face the men. She was beautiful, even Steve saw that, her smile knowing and her eyes open to every of their reactions.

‘I didn’t know you would actually come,’ Tony exclaimed and hurried to welcome her, ‘Steve, come here meat Natasha. Natasha – I have the pleasure to introduce you to Steve Rogers, war hero, military tribune, oddball, huggable and kind. His father used to ransom slaves. Steve – Natasha is a princess of the British, sent to Rome by her father to negotiate with the senate.’

‘You disapprove of slavery?’ Natasha asked. Her voice sounded like velvet to him, dark and soft at the same time as it was rough.

‘I do,’ Steve said, his glance not yielding when she looked at him with interest, ‘My presence here is for expected behaviour only.’

He turned to kiss his mother on the cheek, who smiled at him and stroked his head for a moment before motioning for Natasha to sit down next to her.

‘She is beautiful, isn’t she?’ Tony asked lightly and offered a goblet of wine to Steve.

‘I won’t drink today either. One of us should keep a cool head. And yes, she is beautiful, I suppose.’

‘You don’t know?’ Natasha’s voice let them turn around again. Steve smiled at her but kept his steady face.

‘Steve doesn’t really enjoy the presence of women. There was this young Greek slave once, wasn’t there?’

Steve felt his cheeks redden, his mother didn’t seem too pleased with Tony’s interjection and Natasha lifted an eyebrow at them.

‘You sound amused, aedile – just to have mentioned it: my own brother has entered a bond with a warrior. They are more affectionate and loving towards each other than man and woman can be, once they have endured the battlefield together. The pressing urge of a man’s desire to encounter an understanding soul is nothing anyone should laugh about.’

Tony didn’t say another word.

 

The gladiators came out of the catacombs and formed a line in front of the high ranked administrators. Steve spotted Crossbones immediately, his armour was even thicker than it had been at the banquet, his body was hardly visible under metal plates and behind a shield that covered his upper body. Steve immediately knew where to attack him – his legs were practically unprotected once the attacker could make his way around the shield and breast armour. His helmet was adorned with two white bones painted on the metal above his eyes.

‘Ave! Morituri vos salutant!’

The old gladiator’s greeting echoed through the arena and the crowd went wild. Bruce introduced the ones that would fight first and announced their weapons as well.

Steve knew he looked bored to the spectators but the first fights were nothing more than the newest, inexperienced recruits of the schools who tested each other with blunt weapons. Of course, Steve thought, a skilled warrior would have been able to do harm or even fatally wound an opponent with a sword of wood.

Next came a lion, two crocodiles and a panther that chased each other for quite some time before the panther and the lion teamed up on the crocodiles only for the panther to be the next one killed.

The lion was led out of the arena with its jaws dripping with blood and the bodies of the dead beasts left behind bleeding in the sand.

It was only after the wild beasts that the great gladiators entered the arena again. The fights now following were about gaining honour for the schools, proving themselves worthy of their position and, in case of the last fight, life or death.

‘Bread and circuses,’ Tony muttered under his breath, ‘that’s how my father rose and steadied our position. Keep that in mind, Steve. Today will be my time to point my thumb.’

‘I understand Steve was the one to pick the fighters. Shouldn’t he be the one deciding over life and death of the final fighters?’

‘What do you think?’ Tony asked his fellow aediles.

They looked at Natasha in surprise but didn’t seem to want to say anything against the word of a princess, Roman or not. One nod in Tony’s direction who looked incredibly satisfied.

‘Now you will have to actually watch in order to judge their abilities,’ he said, ‘I must thank you, Natasha.’

The woman didn’t pay him attention since she was involved in a conversation with Clint and Steve’s mother who did seem livelier than Steve had seen her in a long time. As much as Steve enjoyed seeing Tony not being noticed, it didn’t appeal to him to be the one deciding whether Crossbones or Soldier would die.

He felt his mother take his hand and pull him closer.

‘You are doing great, my sweet boy,’ she whispered, ‘just remember that what you do today will influence the people’s opinion of you in a way you will not be able to take back. Listen to them, not what Tony or the administrators might say. Promise me?’

‘I promise, mother. Do you really want to watch this fight?’

His mother gave his hand a squeeze, ‘Once the trade was good enough again, we were invited to provide for the funeral banquet. And then you are allowed to watch the games up close. I have seen Crossbones’ fights from the beginning – he is cruel and seems heartless when he fights. But we might be surprised today.’

‘What do you mean?’ Steve asked.

‘Well, I haven’t ever heard you talk about a gladiator. Yet after the feast at Tony’s you did so and spoke about the Sarmatian. He impressed you, don’t deny it. I know my boy,’ his mother smiled and looked at him with eyes he had inherited.

‘Mother…’

‘Don’t work yourself up about it. You will always be my precious boy. I just wish for you to find something worth holding onto in our society that keeps you at bay, gives you something to live for…’ She let his hand go and nodded towards the arena, ‘You have a fight to watch.’

Steve kissed her cheek once again and went to stand next to Tony. Once again, Bruce introduced his gladiators.

‘Throughout the last years Rome came to know and enjoy Crossbones, the Destroyer, the mighty fighter here in the sandy pits of the Coliseum. Today, he will prove himself against a newcomer, an inexperienced fighter from Sarmatia, a man without fear, in a fight for Life or Death. It is the honour of your aediles to present to you Crossbones versus The Soldier!’

The crowd roared in delight as the two opponents entered the arena. Crossbones lifted his arms over his head, allowing the people cheer him on as he made his way towards the balcony, bathing in the admiration they presented him with.

‘He will not fight with the sun in his eyes. Clever move,’ Tony said, ‘The Soldier will have to squint.’

Steve looked over to the other one and saw the most inconspicuous fighter he ever saw. The Soldier wore a military tunic under his leather armour that left his arms and legs bare, only strapped around his torso and shoulders. It looked almost plain. He held a shield and a spear in one hand, had a sword in his belt and carried his helmet in the other hand.

Both fighters greeted the crowd again, with Crossbones shouting obscenities and insults at the Soldier. The Sarmatian just put his helmet on and waited for Bruce’s sign.

Steve watched him move fluently around, like there couldn’t be anything disturbing his smooth motions. He let his spear spin as Crossbones hammered his spiked mace onto his shield.

Bruce lifted his arm with a white cloth in his hand. He let go of it under the cheer of the closer ranks who were watching the fighters, as it soared towards the ground.

No sooner than the moment it touched the sand, Crossbones launched himself at the Soldier, his mace ready and roaring like a wild beast. Soldier stood unmoved, awaiting his opponent.

‘What is he doing?’ Tony asked breathlessly and leaned over the railing.

‘He…is waiting,’ Steve realized, ‘he allows Crossbones to have this fight his way.’

As he watched Soldier duck and parry off the attacks launched at him, he felt something he initially had wanted to forget. His blood boiled and he could hear his own heartbeat over the screams of the people around him, pounding against his ear drums.

Clint and Rhodey stood as well, with only Scott staying in his seat due to his refusal to cheer for something he didn’t agree with.

Crossbones’ roars were now soaked with anger and frustration. He wasn’t able to reach the Soldier who blocked every blow of the maze and countered with only his shield, neglecting his spear and sword.

‘Is he…running?’ Tony asked again.

‘No’, Steve grinned breathless, ‘he is cleverer than that. He is way smarter than we all expected! He is a genius.’

He watched the Soldier’s moves, who now backed away a few steps and finally gripped his spear tighter.

‘He’s been waiting. Crossbones’ armour is heavier and thicker, no use to attack him there,’ Steve explained, ‘but once you get him moving, he has to work with a burden Soldier doesn’t have to bear. He could outrun him at any point, his armour is lighter and the spear allows him to keep Crossbones at a distance. If he could keep him moving for a while, it might just happen that he tires him out. It is a hot, sunny day after all.’

Bruce looked at him and nodded in approval.

‘I keep forgetting you are a master of strategy and tactics,’ he said with a wide grin.

Steve hunched his shoulders and returned his attention to the fighters in the sand.

For the first time Soldier moved to attack, he swirled his spear and thrusted it at Crossbones’ bare leg. The sand around the spot he was standing on turned red, drop for drop trickling to the ground. The crowd roared, one united sound of sick pleasure.

Another thrust, another cut and Crossbones cried out with pain.

‘That still is no attack,’ Steve observed, ‘it’s teasing.’

‘What does that mean?’ Tony asked, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glistening.

‘It means that we all should be grateful we didn’t meet him on the battlefield. He clearly knows what he does down here,’ Steve said breathlessly.

He heard Scott chuckling behind him.

‘I think Steve just fell in love,’ he said and clapped, ‘now go back to watching your prince.’

Steve did exactly that, even though he didn’t agree with Scott’s words. He felt like he had been given a chance. In this moment, just as Crossbones who had won every fight before, seemingly lost his temper and tried to hit the Soldier _at any cost_ , with whatever hit he could land, the Soldier out-danced him again, seemingly playful. He scratched Crossbones’ knee as he pushed himself to the side and behind the heavier man.

Steve felt the breath caught in his throat as he spun around his opponent and stretched out one foot under Crossbones’ shield where he couldn’t see it from as close as he was to him.

‘That’s risky,’ he gasped, ‘Beautiful!’

The Soldier dropped his spear, drawing the shortsword with a quick motion, just as Crossbones realized what he had done. His mace came down on the Soldier who blocked the blow with his shield, ducked under a wild blow and tried to trip him; but his opponent stood faster than he had gambled on.

Steve flinched unwillingly when Crossbones got a hold of the Soldier and punched him in the face, the helmet came undone and dropped to the ground, leaving the Soldier’s face bare. Steve noted that he was handsome under all the sweat and dust. Again, the crowd reacted, but this time the sounds that came up to the loge were sounds of disapproval and anger towards Crossbones, who proceeded to place blow by blow with his metal coated fist. He hadn’t been on the upper hand for the whole fight but now, with his sword in his left hand and kneeling over the Soldier, ready to draw it into the body under his legs – Steve felt his hands shake and his mind told him to turn away but his eyes couldn’t let go of the Sarmatian.

And in that moment – in this moment, when he clawed at his own hands trying to calm himself, it just couldn’t be that a man like this soldier just gave up – the Soldier looked up to the balcony, looked up to the administrators and _turned_ , pushed himself up and over Crossbones’ shoulders, grasping his opponent’s arm and dragging him over his own torso.

From one moment to the next, their positions had changed again and Crossbones kneeled in front of the Soldier, a sword to his throat and his head pulled back by his short hair as an offer to the administrators.

The people roared again, this time it sounded more like an approval of the situation; Steve could see people waving and shaking their fists and shouting in glee, as well as people hugging each other.

It was obvious to him that the Soldier had gained more followers and supporters than it had appeared before. He clearly had the mob on his side.

‘Steve – that’s your call,’ Tony hissed, ‘Stop drooling!’

He snapped out of the moment and stood next to Bruce who declared, ‘We present to you, administrators of Rome, the victor of the games – the bold, the brave Soldier!’

The crowd ran mad with applause and cheer.

‘Now – will Crossbones be pardoned or does the Soldier get to reward himself by taking his life?’

Steve stepped to the front, presenting himself to the crowd who now looked at him and his hand, lifted over the railing. He looked down into the arena again. Crossbones’ leg still bled into the sand, tinting it dark, and as Steve watched the two men, he realized there was a red stream flowing down the Soldier’s arm, dripping off his elbow into the sand, forming a puddle next to his foot.

He held his chin up and looked straight at Steve. Without hesitation, without blinking, without flinching, and Steve kept this look a stable one. The tension grew with every second, people watching Steve’s thumb, but he couldn’t care less, he had locked gazes with the Soldier, not knowing how to look away. Then he turned his thumb.

The crowd gasped, Tony chuckled and his mother and Natasha were the first ones to start clapping. The Soldier let go of Crossbones, who didn’t look like he would be able to walk back to the school now that the fight had ended. He took his obligatory genuflection before the administrators but only Steve seemed to notice the short nod he gave before retreating into the catacombs.

Bruce motioned some of his slaves to go and get Crossbones out of the arena.

‘Of course you wouldn’t let him die, right Steve, you had to spare him,’ Tony laughed.

‘What is so wrong about that? Bruce shouldn’t lose one of his two best fighters.’

‘What makes you think they are his best fighters?’ Natasha asked.

Steve turned around to face her, ‘Crossbones has won every fight under his name, and he let the Sarmatian fight without training – besides, the Soldier is a Sarmatian. Everybody who knows them also knows not to get in their fighters’ way. It’s not a question of ‘do I let him spare him’ – it is a question of ‘will I be fast enough to pretend I backed his decision’. He could’ve easily decided to kill Crossbones anyway and my order wouldn’t have had the slightest impact on this decision.’

‘So you really are a man of all people – I am impressed. You live up to all the things one can hear about you on the way to Rome, if one keeps their mind open’, Natasha smirked and leaned back, ‘your son is exceptional, my lady Rogers.’

Steve met the proud look of his mother and blushed.

‘He is,’ she smiled, ‘and I couldn’t be prouder of him, after all that has happened to our family. Steve – will you come back with us or are your services needed with Bruce or Tony tonight? Natasha agreed to spend the evening at our domus, and a few days afterwards with me to keep me company.’

‘And so has Clint,’ Natasha added, ‘It seems to me like there are good men in Rome after all.’

‘My lady-‘ Tony began, but she interrupted him with nothing but a smirk.

‘I am not really talking about you, aedile. I will come by your domus later, my dear,’ Natasha said, the last thing addressed to Steve’s mother who squeezed her hand lightly and smiled up at her.

‘We should get going as well, right?’ Clint looked towards Steve, ‘I wanted to ask you something business related.’

‘We know there is no business, not today,’ Tony yelled after them, as Clint turned around, followed by Steve who had lifted his mother from her seat and carried her all the way to where Loki and Thor waited with the litter.

 

~*~

 

Clint’s business talk was to ask for help. It had always been that way and Steve had received messengers, even when returning from battle, with urgent pleas Clint made to him.

He had helped him with a gambling problem, asked his mother to help his business once she let him know that they weren’t closer to ruin than to a business that would keep them fed and able to withstand the pressure that came with trade in Rome, and let him drop by whenever his own domus grew to big and cold for a single man who was still looking for the woman to share his heart and home with him.

Steve dismounted his horse and helped Loki and Thor setting down the litter. Loki pulled the curtains aside and Steve lifted his mother from the pillow and onto his arms.

‘You shouldn’t do that, my sweet boy, I’m too heavy,’ she complained, her arms wrapped around his neck and her head hidden at his chest, but her voice was quieter than usual.

‘Allow me just this, mother. There is not much more that I can do for you right now and you need all the energy and strength you can spare. Let’s get you inside and settled for your visitor. Loki, would you mind running to the kitchen and getting Secundus to make a cup of warm wine and assemble a platter with antipasti for my mother?’

The Germanic turned around and ran off. Steve carried his mother into her chambers and set her down on her couch.

‘Honey – what will you do tonight? With Natasha and Clint here-‘

‘Oh dear mother – I will find something to occupy myself with, no worries. Clint doesn’t like to eat and Natasha doesn’t seem like someone who regularly indulges in banquets – if you don’t mind me, I’ll just sit there reading up on the newest philosophers,’ he smiled, ‘Who knows, maybe Natasha and Clint can find something like common ground!’

 

There was enough common ground for them to seemingly forget about anybody else in the room. Steve smirked at his mother over the top of his parchment. Since Natasha and Clint spoke to each other in a hushed tone, his mother looked more like a chaperone, perched up on her couch as she was. They exchanged a look but Steve knew his mother could handle sitting there without feeling insulted.

In fact, if Natasha and Clint would find they were attracted to each other, it would give Steve something to think about that wasn’t related to blue eyes and the proud nod he had received in the Coliseum.

It occurred to him that the Soldier would be sitting in a cell in Bruce’s gladiator school at this moment, nursing his injuries and feasting on soup and fruit as a reward.

He thought about the Sarmatians he had encountered; wild horse lords, nearly unbeatable once on the back of a horse, quick and flexible, skilled and determined. He couldn’t imagine any of them sitting still in a cell without the fresh air of the dry, green grass seas, a horse on the plains or the freedom to go wherever he wanted.

‘What are you thinking about?’ his mother’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts, he straightened himself and met her curious look.

‘I was thinking about the fight and how much I disagree with it,’ he answered slowly and cupped his chin in his palm.

‘You still have to go, right?’ Clint asked, all of a sudden seeming to remember his hosts.

‘It is expected of me. And you, for that matter,’ Steve retorted.

Clint frowned, ‘Don’t remind me. Do you wanna bet who will have a banquet and private fights first, Tony or Scott?’

‘Wasn’t Scott the consul who so openly disapproved of those fights?’ Natasha asked.

‘He certainly does,’ Steve sighed, ‘and yet, he is a consul and the position doesn’t allow him to not arrange for fights when he has a banquet at his house. Bruce is a friend to us all so we don’t encounter the problems others have to endure once they want to book his fighters…but deep down he doesn’t like it.’

‘Why is he doing it then?’

‘Because the fights at a banquet are fought with blunted weapons, wooden swords and not to death. It is better to have a consul who thinks about the people first, rather than a mindless tyrant who enjoys bloodshed too much,’ Steve said and refilled his cup – with grape juice.

‘It is refreshing to hear Romans speak about their greatest pastime like you do,’ Natasha laughed.

‘Excuse me, but our greatest pastime is going to the baths,’ Clint chipped in and proceeded to tell Natasha about the thermae and what to do there.

‘I’m sure there are thermae in Britain,’ Steve coughed but Natasha only winked at him and placed one of her hands on Clint’s; a motion that had him choke on his words.

‘How long are you in Rome for?’ Steve heard his mother ask.

‘For as long as my father wants me to be here,’ Natasha answered, ‘or until I find a husband he approves of.’

Clint looked at Steve brightly grinning and more confident than he had ever been around Tony, Bruce or Scott.

‘It is great to see you two getting along. We seem to show that Romans can form allegiances with other nations after all.’

‘Mother – all that has happened is that Clint and Natasha here have met and spoken with each other. Which – for Clint at least – means something very intimate.’

‘Oh, shut up Steve!’ Clint shouted and threw a bunch of grapes at him.

Steve ducked away laughing and winked at Natasha, who shook her head smirking and took Clint’s hand to calm him down again.

‘Don’t listen to him, I like that you turn red whenever someone speaks about boys and girls…’ she smiled, ‘in fact…I do like you.’

Clint turned beetred and stuttered about for some moments before he turned towards Steve, his face finally back to normal and his grin triumphant.

‘See, Steve? My stuttering awkwardness is hot! Now I get to get to know a girl and you are still whining because you couldn’t free all the slaves you wanted,’ he declared.

Steve saw his mother furrow her brow and wanted to say something already when Clint cleared his throat and sat up straight.

‘Of course freeing slaves isn’t something bad. It is good to give them the freedom we took from them for our own arrogant reasons. Who knows – if you can’t find a partner amongst the powdered beauties in Rome, you might have to look amongst the slaves, find the perfect one and free them?’

Natasha pursed her mouth, ‘You mean like that Sarmatian earlier? He looked like he could keep a soldier happy,’ she suggested, ‘and you liked him, Steve, didn’t you?’

‘This is no topic we should be discussing in front of my mother,’ Steve choked out, horrified by the eagerness in Natasha’s voice and the easiness mirrored in her expression.

‘Yes, Stevie, but it might be an option to be taken into account’, his mother sighed, ‘at least you would be happy, right? And that is all that is of importance!’

‘Mother,’ Steve began but as soon as the word had left his mouth, he met three glances looking at him very pleased.

 

They were right.

Steve lay on his cot trying to sleep but his mind didn’t grant him the break he needed so badly. On the contrary, it decided to let him live through the fight he had seen in the afternoon. Again he saw Crossbones’ eager attempts to hit the Soldier, the quick, unforeseen steps to the side and the counterattacks he had initiated. He felt his throat tighten again by the sight of the Soldier risking his secured position only to come closer to his opponent, and the results of this action. What injuries had he obtained seen? There had been blood on the side of his head, likely to be a result of the helmet coming undone and Crossbones punching him, by the time the fight had ended his eyes and cheekbones had bruised and swollen and then there was the blood dripping from his arm…

Steve wondered whether Bruce had called for a medicus to treat both fighters, or not. The possibility of the latter case unsettled him. His mind pictured the Soldier sitting in his cell, wrapping rugs and pieces of cloth – maybe even shreds of his own tunic – around his injured arm, and praying to his gods to save him from death in the arena or whatever unworthy ways to die the Sarmatians believed in.

Steve pushed his blanket back. It was only the seventh hour of the night, but he didn’t sleep for long after his time at war. Around the sixth hour, the second watch had ended and he had been volunteering for the morning watch ever since he had driven his sword into a boy younger than himself and his picture had started to haunt him.

He slipped on a tunic and left his chambers with a small lantern that stood next to his cot to provide a bit of light throughout the night. His steps were inaudible since he hadn’t bothered with shoes as he made his way through the hall and into the atrium.

The oil lamps in front of the family altar flickered when he walked past it, grabbed five incense sticks and kneeled before the shrine.

‘Aesculapius, god of healing: I pray to you to relieve the Soldier from his pain and let his injuries heal without infection. Take care of his wounds and let him be unharmed. Oh Fortuna, lady of good fortune: lead his blade in the next fight to lead him to victory. Minerva, goddess of wisdom and war: let me have the patience to put up with Tony and Bruce…just let me see him again and gift him with the knowledge to measure his fights and win with wise strategy, thus Rome sees a gifted warrior and presents him with their heart. Proserpina, lady of destruction and regeneration: help me in my need to understand these new feelings and situations. Juno, protectress of the family: care for my mother, for my friends – lead Clint and Natasha together, if they don’t get their act together. Help me find out what I want, let me have the courage to face my decisions, whatever they may be. It was you who gave her blessing to the unlikeliest unions so please…help me in my moment of despair!’

He lit every stick and watched them burn down and the smoke spirals they produced, as their heavy scent filled the air around him.

Steve leaned his forehead to the cool sandstone the altar was made of and closed his eyes. The things he prayed for now were best kept to his heart alone.

 

~*~

 

The thought that he better had returned to his chamber came to his mind as he was carried there by Thor who was scolded for it by Loki.

‘Oh bravo you fool! You couldn’t think of anything stupider than carrying the master around? He was a soldier, how would you feel about being carried through your own house because you fell asleep on the ground in front of the family altar? Who knows whether he wasn’t finished praying! The last thing we need is the Roman gods being angry at us! Put him down!’

‘I will put him down on his bed, Loki, and not before I have found him another blanket! Didn’t you hear the mistress? He used to get sick all the time when he was a child, we shouldn’t risk that happening again, should we? And he didn’t even wear shoes…I wonder what drove him out of his bed in the middle of the night…’

‘That’s nothing to concern yourself with, Thor, just get him back and pray that he doesn’t wake up. I don’t want to be sold again!’

Steve felt himself being lowered down onto his bed.

‘See, no problem Loki,’ Thor said, his smile audible in his voice, ‘I didn’t know you could be such a coward…’

‘I am not a coward,’ Loki whispered, ‘I just don’t want to be sold to a different owner than you again, since it took me long enough to find you in the first place.’

Steve struggled to keep his eyes shut since all he wanted to do in this moment was to assure the two men they wouldn’t be sold again but he wasn’t sure whether it was appropriate to tell them he had overheard their seemingly private conversation.

 

Of course by the time he got up during the first hour of the day, his mother already had heard about him sleeping in front of the altar.

‘You have ten seconds to explain,’ she said with the stern expression he had gotten to know so well throughout his childhood.

‘Worries, mother. They kept me awake and I went to pray for the family – I must’ve fallen asleep…’

His mother looked at him as if he had broken a thing valuable to her.

‘Oh my sweet boy…’ she sighed and rubbed her temples, ‘why did I ever believe you wouldn’t go around being trouble once you were back? The army really did help!’

‘Don’t be sarcastic, mother, I didn’t mean to upset you. I am truly sorry for the distress I caused you.’

‘What were you praying for?’ his mother asked, helping herself to a bit of fruit.

‘I prayed to Juno for our family,’ Steve answered.

His mother narrowed her eyes at him, ‘Flavia found five burnt sticks this morning.’

‘Minerva, Fortuna, Aesculapius and…Proserpina.’

‘Steve! Are you in need of a medicus? Are you sick? Why would you pray to Aesculapius?’

‘No mother, not for me – I prayed for the injured gladiators and for their quick recovery. As I understand it, they get their meals weighed by their success. An injury should not be the reason for men to starve,’ Steve answered but he didn’t dare to look at his mother who after all these years still was able to read his heart and soul.

‘For that young fighter? He quite appealed to you, didn’t he? My sweet boy, was it Clint who got you to think last night? When you say worries kept you awake, do you mean the boy who defeated Crossbones?’

‘Yes mother.’

 

~*~

 

The peace did seem to last for longer than he had expected, although Steve didn’t mind having to ride down to the military barracks merely once a week to train new soldiers who answered their conscription. Although, he went there more to train himself, rather than train the young men entrusted to his leadership.

He helped his mother with the trade in order to leave him ‘fit for the worst,’ as she said. After saying it he forbid her to ever mention it again, since she was implying her own death.

It became his greatest occupation to go to the gymnasium or the thermae in his free time, if he wasn’t at the barracks.

It wasn’t until a few weeks later, that a messenger was led into the chamber his mother worked in.

‘I come to bring an invitation from my master, the consul Scott Lang for the master of this house, the military tribune Steve Rogers and his mother. A feast will be held at my master’s villa on the third day of the eighth month and will be accompanied by show fights.’

Steve felt himself hold his breath and felt himself flinch when his mother took a hold of his hand.

‘Thank you. Please tell your master that we will gladly join his party,’ she said with a smile, ‘oh and please go by the kitchen and let the cook offer you a drink, it is too hot outside for a messenger to run around without a cup of water or wine.’

‘I’m not allowed to delay myself,’ the messenger replied.

‘Consul Scott lives on the Capitol so please refrain yourself from thinking about leaving without having taken refreshment. My son and I will not tell anyone and you look like you need a drink most urgently.’

The slave bowed and retreated.

‘Poor lad didn’t know what to say to that, mother,’ Steve smiled, ‘you keep worming your way into all their hearts.’

‘What about you, my dear? Do you know what the slaves speak about at every gladiator school in the city? They speak about the young tribune who ended a fight for Life or Death with both fighters walking out of the arena whilst keeping the people satisfied. The most patricians don’t know the worth of a life but you, you, my sweet boy, you know how special every man or woman is, even those not deemed valuable enough…’

‘Mother…’

‘And it will be a chance for you, don’t you think? Bruce will certainly provide the fighters and who knows, your Sarmatian may be amongst them.’

‘Mother – he is not my Sarmatian!’

His mother smirked at him with her eyes glistening mischievous.

‘But you certainly wish he was, am I not right? I can understand, sweetheart, there was a time I fell for a young soldier who came into Rome from Rhegium, who had served in the army, and dreamed of entering the oil trade,’ she smiled and made to sit up.

Although he could see how much energy it cost her, Steve didn’t move. She didn’t like him to jump to her side as long as she was still able to move on her own. She pushed herself to take the few steps towards him and placed her hands on his cheeks, pulling him close enough to kiss his forehead, eyes and lips.

‘Don’t you dare doubt your heart and decisions, my sweet boy. They are something pure, and the most precious thing you have inherited from your father, Steve. He knew what to do at any point and he never regretted one thing he did. I don’t want you to regret your feelings, I know you are most likely to free all slaves in our house as soon as I die but I want to tell you something important: once we’d allow them to go they’d stay. Not because they don’t know anything else – rather because we love them and we allow them to have families and dreams of their own. You are a military tribune with connections, not an oil merchant, I know that. I see you making face at prices, taxes and orders – you are better on horseback with a political mission. Have you asked Scott if there is a post as ambassador? I think that would suit you more…and with a man of different birth at your side-‘

‘Mother!’ Steve pushed her hands aside and stood before he knew what he was doing. Her hands fell in her lap as she watched her son pace about the room, ‘I am your only child, mother, the brother I might have had died before I was born and my sister grew to be one year old before Pluto took her away. Me praying to Proserpina causes you to look hurt but I do it to keep in mind how close life and death can be. Gladiator fights are a gamble with people’s lives, that’s why I don’t like them. It has occurred to you that two men, as happy as they may be, do not have any hope of having a child, an heir? Besides – we do not practise arranged marriage. I would like to know more about a person before becoming acquainted with them, let alone be married without him knowing me. He doesn’t know me and even if he did, I wouldn’t be more than a patrician with too much time on his hands and a preference for men and bad jokes. That is what it would be to any of those in possession of slaves: a bad joke!’

‘Do you really mean that? Being with a man is not even frowned upon anymore, emperors and kings lived and lay with men centuries before us and you ask how their bloodline survived? There are enough poor, lost souls out on the streets, children who lost their parents to sickness, poverty, slavery; children who know the value of a home and people who love them; children who already know the worst and who would compete for the possibility to escape the life in the gutters! Don’t come talking like a flower, Steve, because you are stronger and smarter than that! We are going to see who Bruce brings to Scott’s banquet and I will see my son given to a person fit to be his, that I swear before all the gods!’

She was a fierce woman, used to being underestimated, yet determined to show everybody her true nature.

Steve thought about her words as he carried her to bed this evening. The day had cost her too much of her strength, and by the time they had eaten she hadn’t been able to sit up. He knew her symptoms and behaviour when her state grew worse, he knew when he was allowed to lift her from her seat and carry her – he also knew how cold her response could be if he lifted her up without reason.

‘You know I want only the best for you, don’t you?’, she whispered against his shoulder, one hand weakly tangled into his hair.

‘Yes mother. And I know that it was wrong of me to shout at you for all the wrong reasons. I should know better but the army…’

‘Of course. Soldiers will not easily approve of two men sharing a bed, right? Do not worry, my sunshine, no one cares in Rome or in the provinces. That’s a thing entirely military based. Now get me to my chambers, Flavia is waiting with the newest gossip.’

Steve kissed her forehead before leaving her with Flavia, who almost shooed him out of the room before closing the curtains. He went to do the one thing he had wanted to do all day – he went to the slaves’ quarters behind the kitchen.

Every family amongst their slaves had a separate room, so did the couples and then there was one room each for women and men. He found Secundus playing a game of dice with another three men and asked them where to find Thor.

They looked uncomfortable all of a sudden, but one young man he knew as Abel grinned at him and nodded towards a wooden door further down the hall.

‘They are there. I’d knock in your place, master Steve,’ he said, ‘Might be surprised otherwise…’

Steve looked puzzled for a moment before Secundus explained, ‘It’s Loki as well, master Steve, they share the chamber.’

Their looks followed Steve down the hall as he turned away from them, knocked on the door and entered the room.

What he saw was less then he had expected though as powerful as watching a wedding. Thor and Loki sat on the cot, the former having placed an arm around the latter’s shoulders, holding him close. Loki had rested his head on Thor’s shoulder and sang to him in a husky, yet soothing voice and in a language Steve only knew as one of the Germanic dialects spoken north of the borders. Thor had his eyes closed and neither of them seemed to have heard him enter.

Steve cleared his throat.

‘Excuse me, I didn’t want to intrude, I just…I just wanted to say something,’ he rushed to say quietly before the two could jump apart, ‘I just wanted to let you know that – whatever happens – you will not be separated by selling, not ever. My mother knows that I am most likely to free all slaves in this house in case of her death since I am no man who needs people serving him. I just…wanted to tell you. No one will ever have the possibility to part you. I think…you deserve to know.’

He fumbled with the seam of his tunic, not knowing where to look until a quiet sound alarmed him. Loki had hidden his face, his hands covering his eyes. Thor rubbed his back soothingly, but judging by the way he was blinking when he looked at Steve he, too, was close to the embarrassed tears Loki shed.

‘We have to thank you, master. And I know you don’t like being called this – but thank you., master Steve. Thank you for thinking about us as if we were similar to you.’

‘You are more similar to me than you’d expect,’ Steve smiled, ‘and it is because of this that I ask you to come to me whenever you are in need of anything. Again, I am sorry for having disturbed you.’

‘You heard us last night,’ Thor stuttered.

Steve scratched his head, ‘You care about me, even though it was my people that robbed you of all you held dear. You seem to have found each other, so it seemed only right to assure you that my mother and I would never treat you for anything less than you are: lovers. The bond you share is something godly given and not for humans to separate.’

He didn’t expect Loki to stand up, come towards him and hug him, long black hair covering his slim face and the silver beads weaved into the long strands tinkling against each other.

‘Marsi,’ Thor choked out, ‘too emotional for their own good.’

Steve smiled at this and left the room. Surely, Thor and Loki would need some time to go over what he hat told them.

It was a good feeling.

 

~*~

 

‘Why does Scott have to have his villa outside of Rome?’ Steve sighed and fell back a bit to meet the carriage his mother travelled in.

His horse protested with a snort.

‘Because all the fancy villas are outside of Rome,’ his mother laughed, ‘what is it you worry about? Me being tired?’

‘And if it was so?’

‘Then I’d tell you to stop thinking about me. No one will care about how much I talk today. More importantly: how are you? You’ve been quiet these last days…’

‘I’ve been thinking about Thor and Loki. They met on their transport to Rome, two fighters from different tribes, former enemies but the knowledge of maybe never seeing home again made them meet common ground…and they fell in love. They came from different worlds in a way but they still were lucky enough to meet the person meant for them. I don’t know – I am happy for them and…I wish I had something like they do…’

‘You will, sweetheart, you will,’ his mother smiled at him, ‘Just quickly tell me who will be there today?’

‘I guess Tony, Bruce, Clint and Natasha…we’re awaiting the good news any day now,’ Steve answered, ‘Maybe some of the matrons and patrons of Rome…’

‘Then I should not be too bored. Scott has his aunt coming over, right?’

‘The aunt younger than himself you mean?’ Steve laughed.

‘Don’t you laugh! Scott’s father might have married three times and each time the woman was younger than the one before, but it did a great deal to improve the family bonds Scott now has. His aunt is-‘

‘- the younger sister of Scott’s first stepmother who died giving birth, heiress to a great fortune since she is mistress of the guild of the seers. I know that mother. I also know that you have taken an interest in her kin.’

‘Of course I have,’ his mother said, ‘What did you expect me to do with my son off to fight a war and without clue about the state he is in? I went to the temples, I let her read your future for me and it came true. Wanda is a skilled seer and a good person, she manages to make me forget my own health with her wits.’

Steve smirked, knowing that his mother had turned to all the gods there were for him, made him feel guilty but since she wasn’t having any of it, he felt calmed at the same moment.

Scott’s villa was surrounded by his vineyards and estates which took them an hour to cross and left Steve amazed every time he went there. Given that the last time he had seen the villa he had been ten years younger, he remembered Scott’s father still living there and not in the domus the family owned in Rome, and Scott playing with his aunt Wanda in the yard.

 

The carriage passed the gate and the villa came into sight. Steve let the thought of being back at this place run through his head. It felt better than he had been expecting.

He could see Scott standing in front of the main door looking out for them. As soon as he spotted them he started to wave with both hands over his head.

‘Go on boy,’ his mother smirked and shooed him, ‘Scott looks like he has been waiting for a bit longer than a few minutes, go say Hello and I will join you in no time.’

Steve goaded his horse and took the last meters. He dismounted right in front of Scott who laughed at him wholeheartedly and hugged him tightly.

‘I was starting to think you wouldn’t join us after all! Is that your mother’s carriage? I will tell the slaves to take care of the horses. Oh, you won’t expect what we have planned for tonight! Wanda will sacrifice to the family gods before we eat and throughout dinner Bruce’s gladiators will entertain us.’

‘You look forward to that?’ Steve laughed, ‘How come you of all people show an interest in private gladiator fights during dinner?’

‘Tony made me,’ Scott winced.

He greeted Steve’s mother as well and helped her out of her carriage before leading them inside. The atrium was as big as the whole living area Steve and his mother occupied in Rome, a water basin in the centre kept the whole room cool, and on all ends were doors leading to different parts of the villa.

Most of the cots placed in square a half circle around the colonnade were already occupied but two of them, next to Tony and Natasha, were still free. Steve helped his mother onto one of them, opposing Wanda in her scarlet habit with the golden adornments and lacy headdress of her order.

‘Looks like we are complete,’ Scott announced, ‘Welcome, friends and thank you for accepting the long journey just to come here. We seem to need a special occasion to come together like this – and I hope the gods watch over us as we dine as friends.’

‘Hear, hear,’ Tony laughed and raised his goblet, ‘calling the gods before dinner!’

‘The gods see us, Tony,’ Wanda said in her mystic manner, ‘they see more than we would like them to, Tony Stark. Scott does the good thing by having someone sacrificing to the family gods beforehand.’

She walked towards a fire bowl and dropped several pieces of an ox’s liver into the flames, ‘We pray, family gods, for this evening to be delightful. Keep your watch over us as we attempt to honour you. Let us gather in your glory and fill our hearts with joy as we seek your guidance for our lives and the decisions we encounter.’

She looked straight into the fire, her hands moving about like they were conjuring the flames. Her eyes mirrored the flickering and the smoke coming from the fire surrounded her like another cloak.

Steve swallowed as she lifted her gaze and looked at all of them one by one.

‘The gods approve of your banquet, Scott,’ she finally declared, ‘it will bring joy to you, worry to one and dreams to another.’

Wanda made her way back to her cot gracefully with her jewellery clinking around her body. She turned away from her place for a moment to reach over to Steve’s mother, take a hold of her hand and look into her eyes, ‘You should let him help. False pride can be a downfall, my dear. The gods provide everybody with only one life – it is up to us to use it in a way we can be proud of it.’

Having said that she returned to her place just as Steve wanted to ask what she meant. He hadn’t feel too good about seers ever since one of them had told his general that he would be the glorious winner of the war against the joined Germanics. It had been Steve himself who was deemed a war hero after the general had been killed and Steve had taken his place to turn a defeat into victory.

It had been a victory foreseen for the wrong men, that he still thought, even though he liked Wanda a lot more than he had liked the seer who had been with his legion.

‘Should we get the fighters out? We should get the fighters out!’ Tony yelled over his raised wine goblet and looked over at Bruce.

Only now, Steve discovered Marcellus standing in one corner of the room. When Bruce nodded, he left to get the fighters ready to come into the atrium and fight before them.

‘So – who do we watch during starters?’ Tony asked and leaned to the side.

‘Maximus versus the Frog. He named himself after jumping over an opponent’s blade,’ Bruce answered.

The two fighters who came at the same time as Scott’s house slaves arrived with the first course, were new to the fighting rink. They danced around each other for a long time before the one called Maximus managed to hit the other one.

‘Tell me Steve, where lies the difference between the fights in the arena and these?’ Natasha asked halfway through the second course.

‘First of all – the weapons are blunted, you won’t see blood and injuries here. It is simply about their knowledge, strategy and audacity since hits with a blunt wooden sword can still hurt if stroke with knowledge of how to use it to one’s advantage. The fighters don’t wear any armour and usually there is more legwork involved than in the arena.’

Natasha waved for a slave to refill her cup with wine. Her legs dangled off the edge of her cot, nearly touching Clint’s feet right beside her.

‘Will they get treated better if they win here?’ she asked.

‘That’s up to Bruce really. Some gladiator schools allow their fighters at private fights to eat what the guests leave after the dinner, others grant them some time without fights,’ Clint answered, ‘I don’t know how Bruce handles it usually though…’

They watched as the next luxurious course was presented to them along with four gladiators to take each other out. The men wore nothing more than a leather tunic and a belt to hold their swords before the fight started. Without a shield in hands they rounded each other, lurking for mistakes the others made to get into the breach and fight off one of the opponents.

‘It looks like they enjoy it,’ Natasha observed, her shining eyes never leaving the fighter’s moving bodies.

‘Well, they don’t have to fear death for once,’ Clint snorted, ‘I would look unhappy in the Coliseum, too.’

‘You would be dead within minutes,’ Steve quipped, ‘remember when you tripped over your own sandals?’

Tony clapped in delight when one of the fighters stumbled and fell to the ground. The other men gathered around the atrium shouted in cheer, Wanda had turned her back to the scene and Steve saw his mother pushing a bit of bread around on her plate. Clearly she enjoyed the show as much as Steve who tried not to pay attention to the bruises forming on the fighter’s skins once the wooden swords found a way to hit them.

Scott seemed to have decided to drown all thoughts he might have had before in wine. He was giving a poor act of a host for them but Steve suspected the choice to have a private fight didn’t agree with him as much as society wished for it. Rome would just have to deal with a peace loving consul for once.

Before the dessert was brought in and the last fight was started, Wanda offered more sacrifices to the gods. She took some of every course they had been eating and burned it in honour of the family gods. The flames turned yellow and blue and the seer sang a hushed hymn to praise both Bacchus and Vesta before turning around to the gathered guests.

‘The gods are satisfied with the sacrificed. Have the last course on them and you will be granted their clemency,’ she said, ‘I believe Scott has planned a great deal for this!’

‘Yes,’ Scott said, obviously facing problems to focus, ‘We have lots of treats for you all! First of all there are sweet cakes and even sweeter wine, harvested from my own vineyards; we have fruit and nuts – Tony asked me to tell you to enjoy your figs and nuts, my dear guests, we have raisins rolled in honey, and something special: oysters! I beg you, dear friends, go on and eat! Along with the dessert, Bruce and I have the pleasure to present you the greatest fighters the Coliseum knows at our time: Crossbones and the Soldier! Please, sit and eat, feel good and cheer them on during one last fight tonight.’

Steve didn’t care about wine, cakes or fruit and nuts in honey – not after Scott had announced the man he had been thinking about for so long now. The worry he felt for the Soldier came back to him, almost sweeping him off his feet.

‘Steve,’ his mother said quietly, ‘would you mind guiding me back to the table? My legs don’t want as I do anymore…’

He gathered her up in his arms and carried her back to where the rest of their party had sat back down and were already talking about business again, laughing as Crossbones and the Soldier entered the atrium, guided by Marcellus.

First came Crossbones who looked grimmer without his armour than he had with it. His face was scattered with scars and his shoulders held a strong posture.

Steve almost forgot to set his mother down when he saw the clear eyes of the Soldier scanning their faces and getting caught on him for a mere second. The hard lines of his mouth softened for a moment to allow one corner to quirk up.

‘Steve – I think you might want to get a better look. Back here with me you won’t really see what you want,’ his mother whispered and placed a cool hand on his cheek.

He blushed and set her down next to Natasha and Wanda who both didn’t show particular interest in the last fight. At least that was what one could have assumed with only one glance at them.

Steve couldn’t care less about sweet cakes and wine, he sat upright and watched as the two men measured each other.

‘They haven’t faced against each other since that day in the Coliseum,’ Bruce explained with the air of someone who had to sell something, ‘now they are burning to get back at each other. Both of them were injured after the fight but have regained their strength since then.’

The Soldier lunged forward, taking Crossbones and the audience by surprise. Nothing was left to be seen of the cautious acting fighter they had seen at the Coliseum and Steve stood there, mouth gaping open, watching. The sun fell in through the open roof of the atrium and let the movements of muscles under tanned skin become clear to the spectator’s eyes. Every hit with the wooden swords was cutting through the warm air and let Steve flinch in fear for the Soldier being hit.

It wasn’t him though, most hits were wood on wood as the fighter’s swords clashed. Both men moved as smooth as hunting tigers, trying to lure the other one to step forward and attack, giving himself away to the force and sword of the defendant.

For long minutes nothing happened beside Crossbones grimacing and the Soldier following and calculating his every move with cold, ice-blue eyes.

Then a whip sounded, Marcellus stepped closer, bellowing at them in a dialect Steve didn’t understand.

‘Why?’ he asked in Bruce’s direction, his jaw set and his voice hard.

‘They don’t make any progress. Stalling will not do them any good, so we need to shake things up a bit. Why do you care all of a sudden anyways, gladiator fights were of no interest for you up until now.’

‘I don’t think rushing a fight is the right thing to do when handling men’s lives. It doesn’t matter that they are fighting with blunt weapons, Bruce, it’s not the human thing to do!’

‘You still haven’t understood the difference between us and them, right? They are slaves, the only right they have is not to be sold under their value, they don’t care whether we come at them with a whip or with honey. Those men don’t know anything but fight and we allow them to live their knowledge,’ Bruce answered and whistled loudly, ‘Get up you idiot, the aedile has placed money on your win!’

This was directed to Crossbones who had stumbled over the uneven ground. To Steve’s surprise the Soldier hadn’t taken this to his advantage but kept his eyes firmly on the ground, waiting for his opponent to scramble back to his feet.

And yet, there was a shift in their behaviour. Crossbones acted more aggressively trying to get close to the Soldier who seemed to have underestimated the power behind the man’s blows. He had to retreat, his bare feet slipping on the stone ground, his barely held up sword wasn’t much of a blockade as Crossbones started to increase his attacks.

Steve felt his fingernails dig into the skin of his palms. He had to ground himself or otherwise he would have lunged himself onto Bruce, just to wipe the satisfied grin off his lips.

‘Well done Crossbones,’ someone shouted from the side as the wooden sword hit the Soldier’s left arm – the one injured in the fight, as Steve recalled.

By now Crossbones’ technique was nothing but dirty. He hit his opponent’s disadvantages precisely, without granting Soldier to cover his left. The sight hurt parts of him he hadn’t known could be so prominent.

‘That’s not truly him…he would not let anyone do that to him,’ Steve said more to himself than to anybody else, ‘he knows how to fight, how to get the upper hand, why does he take this beating?’

‘He has to,’ a voice said at his side.

Natasha had come over from where she was sitting with Clint and his mother. Standing next to him she seemed smaller and slimmer than before, her arms snaked around her torso seemingly to protect herself.

‘What do you mean?’ Steve asked.

The woman looked at him with an indescribable pain in her eyes.

‘I know the Sarmatians,’ she said, ‘they believe that whoever is captured or somehow came into the enemy’s hand has been weak and needs to repent for this…I think they believe it to be almost a crime – before they are allowed to win again. As long as he is a slave and forced to fight he will allow his opponent to get the upper hand until he has suffered pain and defeat enough to satisfy his cruel gods.’

Red drops fell to the stone ground of the atrium as Crossbones’ sword hit the swollen, bruised and maltreated shoulder of the Soldier again, the skin splitting open. The fighter let out a cry of pain, loud and bestial and then he rolled to the side, out of reach of the sword.

‘There you go,’ Natasha sighed, resting against Steve’s side, ‘the gods have been calmed with his blood. Now he can get up again and fight with all his force. He is now worthy to win again and I guess he’s not one of those who will let the chance go unnoticed.’

The Soldier pushed himself up on his knees, blocking Crossbones’ next blow with his sword and countering it immediately.

Steve felt his hands loosen up again as the Soldier’s rise became foreseeable. Once he showed his true colours it didn’t take long for Crossbones to be defeated. The succession of hits echoed in the room, leaving the banquet party with their mouths gaping open as the Soldier managed to force his opponent back to the water basin. A quick kick, a hit and Crossbones took a bath against his will.

It stayed still for a moment. It was all Tony needed to process the things that had happened before barking out a laugh.

‘Great!’ he shouted, ‘Let this man sit with me, Bruce, I will see to him being fed properly for once!’

Marcellus led Crossbones away who was spitting with anger and tried to get his hands around his opponent’s neck in passing. He received a hit with the whip for the attempt.

Tony arose from his cot, a cup of wine in his hands, his posture assuming the unstable stagger of a drunk and his eyes mirroring the gleam of the alcohol’s daringness. His movements were uncertain and without direction but he still managed to walk towards the Soldier who stood in the middle of the yard, not moving a finger, the sword still in his hand hanging down from his lowered hand.

‘Oh, you won’t need that anymore, you’re going to have a good time with us now – come, sit with me, there’s enough space on one cot for two fit men like us, right? Have you ever had a goblet of wine with sweet cakes and nuts in honey? You’ll get to try some now, have a seat with me and let me take care of that wound…warm wine should help to wash it out and reduce the risk of an infection, right?’ Tony drawled and pressed a hand to the Soldier’s arm.

Steve saw him flinch slightly, the injuries adduced to him by Crossbones’ hits must have been worse than they seemed to the spectator’s eye – or was it the way Tony’s hand slipped over the arm and down his chest, still sweaty and covered with wheals where the dust from the ground had settled onto his skin moulding the dips of the hard muscles beneath it.

‘You’re staring,’ Natasha said sweetly at his side, ‘Please contain yourself, socking Tony in the jaw in front of all these people would not be what you want to do right now. I know what you must feel right now but please – jealousy is no virtue. You can step in, but not now! Bruce will only give him to Tony for money, him being aedile or not doesn’t matter in this business. Furthermore, Tony is drunk and hardly able to match him.’

Clint appeared at his other side, ‘Concentrate on how lost he looks. He shows a certain similarity with a wolf cub, doesn’t he? Tony can’t keep that act up, he’s close to passing out and that man doesn’t look like he is indulging in after-fight parties often.’

Steve still clenched his fists.

Tony merely dropped back to the cot, pulling the Soldier down with him which led to him sitting on the aedile’s lap, one of Tony’s arms around his waist. He did neither move on his own nor make a sound, his eyes following Bruce’s movements rather than anyone else’s as his master was the one with the ability to change the situation with one word.

Bruce just smiled at Scott who got some money out of his purse, the payment for the fights apparently, accepted as soon as possible.

‘Wine and food for our brave fighter,’ Tony shouted, ‘and a soft cushion for him to rest on!’

Steve just shook his head and waved one of Scott’s slaves to come closer.

‘Warm water and bandages would suit him better. His wounds need tending to them,’ he said out loud.

The slave left and returned a few minutes later with a steaming jug of water and white linen bandages on a tray.

‘Master,’ he said and bowed before Steve.

‘Don’t call me that, your master sits over there,’ Steve retorted and nodded towards Scott who was about to down another cup of wine, ‘just let me take this.’

He turned towards Tony who had advanced to grabbing whatever was left on the platters on the table and offering it to the man still sitting in his lap. The Soldier still didn’t move but his eyes let anyone who was truly looking know that the way Tony was treating him insulted him.

‘I want to have a look at this wound and tend to it. May I?’ Steve asked softly.

The Soldier looked up when he heard him, Steve smiled shortly and pointed to the tray in his hands. The man nodded, barely noticeable.

‘Let him eat on his own, Tony, and get him off your lap,’ Steve said sternly and placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder.

His friend looked at him blinking with heavy eyelids.

‘Yeah, sure,’ he slurred, ‘you go have him.’

Steve waited until the Soldier sat next to Tony before dipping a cloth into the warm water and washing the wound on his shoulder and arm that still bled a bit. He felt the warm skin under his fingers and how the blood pulsed through the shoulder he doctored.

‘You should change the bandages every day and keep them for a bit. You don’t want a tear like this to get infected,’ he mumbled and used a bit of the water to rinse the wound before bandaging it.

The muscles under his fingers hardened for a moment which certainly was a result of the jolt of pain running through Soldier’s body when the hot water came in contact with the injured flesh. Steve just proceeded like nothing had happened, not paying attention to the other guests, although he could hear Wanda and Natasha snickering behind his back. All he could concentrate on was how to wrap the bandages around Soldier’s arm without causing him any more pain. Once he had finished he stepped back, resisting the temptation to let his fingers linger.

‘Now he needs to eat,’ Tony insisted, already holding out the next sweet cake for the other man to take.

He looked to Bruce who just nodded.

The Soldier dropped his gaze to the ground but let Tony feed him with the cake.

‘Oh Bruce, he is adorable. Scary, but adorable! I think he could be really popular with the people in the city…you need to keep him, otherwise I’ll buy him!’

Steve could tell how much it distressed the Sarmatian to hear his fate being discussed by other men whilst he was sitting right there with them. If there was any hope this man possessed even though being in this situation, Steve wished for him to cling to whatever gave him hope to undergo Tony’s senseless babbling.

His face certainly expressed all the worries his mind let him suffer through and he didn’t expect to look up to see the Soldier glancing at him, light eyes wide open over the top of the cake Tony was feeding him. He managed to appear like he was only nibbling at it although Tony all but pushed it in his mouth – more than that: Steve would have called the way the Soldier looked at him with glinting blue eyes _seductive_ , if it wasn’t for the situation the man was in. He felt his skin flush dark red, tinted by a blush that crept down his spine, down his back until he felt warmer than he should be.

And then the cake was eaten and the Soldier licked his lips, sweeping the last crumbs into his mouth and swallowing them down. Steve felt like the ground should open right under his feet to spare him the embarrassment that he was not able to look away from the sight presented to him.

 

~*~

 

‘You really should call on Bruce. I can’t stand to see you like this, sweetheart!’

Steve looked up from the papers he had been studying. His mother usually lay on a cot in the garden around this time of day but when he looked to the door she leaned onto the frame, the darkening evening sky in her back.

‘Mother what are you doing? You should rest and not walk around,’ he said and got up.

‘I saw you from out there and I couldn’t take it for a moment longer – you need to get going and do something about this mess,’ his mother just said and looked at him as she had done when he was a little boy.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that I am neither blind nor deaf. I can hear you sigh at night and it breaks my heart. I also was able to see the way you looked at the young men at Scott’s banquet. You like him and judging by the way he was looking at you and how heartbroken he seemed when that horrible man led him away…’

‘Marcellus? Bruce’s warden?’

‘A horrible man. Look, sweetheart, I’m not saying you should get your uniform and ride to Bruce’s school with the money you have hidden under your pillow but on the other hand-‘

‘Mother – you can’t…I mean…’

‘I didn’t snoop around your room, no worries, my sweet boy. Flavia told me you have been experiencing cricks in the neck and headaches, and Thor told me that your pillowcase clinked when he carried you to bed the other night. And last but not least – I am the woman married to the one man in Rome who would’ve plunged himself into ruin, if it had bought a couple of slaves their freedom.’

Steve rushed towards her, threw his arms around her shoulders and hid his face in the crook of her neck.

‘Thanks, mother, thank you,’ he sniffled, ‘Excuse me…I have to go, I need to…mother, what am I going to do?’

‘You are going to calm down, sweetheart,’ his mother laughed softly, ‘Go get changed though, the helmet shields your face once at the gladiator school. Of course the uniform makes you even cuter than you already are, my sweet boy, but it can only be to your advance. Take care though, I wouldn’t like you being kidnapped by a lady who takes a liking in you before you can fulfil your fate.’

Steve looked down into his mother’s teary eyes before pressing a kiss to her temple and turning on his heel. He ran down the hall to his chamber and pulled his uniform out of the wardrobe. If his mother was right the helmet would grant him an opportunity to slip into Bruce’s school without anyone noticing or recognizing him.

 

His horse didn’t seem too keen to be brought out again after a day at the barracks and only two days after the long ride to Scott’s villa and back to Rome but he still managed to get on the way to Bruce’s estate. It was built in a square, the walls and accommodations encircling a training area, but Steve didn’t hear any sounds that would have him come to realise that there were training fights going on. Due to the late hour, he suspected the gladiators to be in their cells already.

He knocked at the gate, waiting for it to be opened by one of Bruce’s house slaves.

‘Is your master here,’ Steve asked, ‘Military tribune Steve Rogers here to talk with him.’

The slave hurriedly opened the gate and let Steve ride into the yard. Another one took over the horse and Steve followed the first one into the main house.

He could hear Bruce laugh at a joke told by one of his dinner guests as it seemed.

‘Master – the military tribune is here to talk to you,’ the slave announced, causing Bruce to rise from his cot.

He already wasn’t standing stable any more and smiled at Steve widely.

‘Stevie,’ he yelled, ‘how nice of you to join us!

‘Oh by all the gods! You sound like Tony, how much have you had already…can we talk business for a moment? In private?’

Bruce seemingly tried to sober up a bit at the mention of business and accompanied Steve to his office, leaving his party behind.

‘What are you celebrating?’ Steve asked curiously and closed the door behind him.

‘You can’t imagine how much a consul pays for a few fights beside his banquet. With what he has paid me I can invest in new slaves and weapons, can you think of it?’

Steve pulled his shoulders closer to his head, ‘Would you like to get even more out of it?’

‘From whom?’ Bruce asked.

‘From me,’ Steve said, squaring his shoulders, ‘I wish to buy the freedom of the man called the Soldier. I am willing to give you any sum you want for him but I am relying on your sense of humanity.’

Bruce blinked at him with droopy eye lids, ‘Like…really? You want to _buy_ him? I had expected you to come here and demand his services for one night at most. But freeing him – did you find out that you are your father’s son after all? Oh this is a happy day for me, Tony just lost a bet!’

‘Bruce – your answer!’ Steve demanded nervously, ‘Can you give him up to me?’

‘You mean…now?’

‘Yes.’

‘You want to take him with you? Now? Oh…’

‘Bruce,’ Steve said, his voice growing ever darker; he felt something surge through his veins that he hadn’t felt since Germania, ‘You’re squirming, what’s the matter?’

‘You see…Crossbones demanded to have a night with our pretty Sarmatian…’

‘Crossbones?’ Steve yelled, ‘But he’s a gladiator, a slave!’

‘Not really,’ Bruce winced, ‘He gave up his citizenship when he came here and I’m allowed to get rougher with him, but he’s still higher in his state than all the other men I have here. His name is Brock Rumlow, do you remember? The wine traders from Ostia? They are still a very powerful family. When it comes to a request like that he is the only one who actually can demand something…’

‘Answer me! Will you give him to me?’

‘The price-‘

‘Fuck the price, get the documents ready and tell me how I get to the cells!’

‘Left wing, Soldier has his down at the end,’ Bruce said, sobering up more and more with every second, ‘He came to me during the first course…you might have arrived just at the right time…’

Steve turned on his heel and ran down the hall, out of the residence and across the yard. The door to the slaves’ accommodations was open, he barged in and ran past some confused gladiators hunched over their bowls with soup.

He sprinted down the hallway towards the last cell, the only one with a closed door. A slave came out of the cell next to it.

‘Something wrong centurion?’ he asked and stared at Steve in his uniform.

Steve ignored him and rushed through the door and into the cell.

He stumbled into Crossbones who had his back to the door standing opposite the Soldier. He already had him taking off his tunic which left him in only the leather surcingle he wore around his waist. Steve took in the sight of oiled skin and skinny hips before it came to his mind why he stood in this cell.

Crossbones sounded confused when he said, ‘How can we be of service?’

Steve swallowed with some difficulty against the lump in his throat, caused by the sight of the Soldier half naked and his skin glistening indecently in front of him.

‘I need to talk to…the Soldier. Alone. If that could be arranged for?’

Crossbones looked at him diffidently and cocked an eyebrow.

‘You could get more out of it, if you require his services. I wouldn’t say No to a handsome soldier like you either,’ he smirked and stepped closer to Steve, one hand already lifted to rest it on his arm.

Steve flinched and felt a blush creeping down his neck, ‘I do not demand _your_ services, Brock Rumlow. Yes, I know the name you gave up to become what educated people call a bloodthirsty monster. There is no honour in fighting in the arena. On the battlefield though…a sword in hand and an army of brothers behind you…that’s something else entirely, isn’t it?’

He had directed that last one at the Soldier who stared to the ground, not daring to move as long as Crossbones was in the same room – not that Steve could have known about his thoughts, but the way he jerked away whenever the bigger man moved made it pretty clear to him.

‘And it is military tribune, not soldier,’ Steve added after a moment, his voice softer now, purring with the warmness of velvet.

He could see worry grow in Crossbones’ eyes and took it as his chance.

‘Move!’ He hadn’t used this tone since his last day at the front, clear like a crystal, cold like the ice north of the Alps and without any wrong conclusions to be drawn.

Crossbones didn’t look like he wanted to back up, but facing a military tribune apparently let him think about his attitude. He retreated and closed the door behind himself with an angry slam.

The moment the door closed, the Soldier slumped onto the berth behind him, barely more than a board mounted to the wall with a blanket on top. He held his head low, hair falling in his face. Steve couldn’t judge by what he was able to see how the other man felt.

‘I suppose all I can do now is to thank you,’ Soldier said quietly and slid to the ground, his knees hit the stone without the hit being intercepted, ‘I am offering you my services, master.’

His fingers fumbled around with his belt, untying the leather stripe that held it on his hips.

‘To thank – no!’ Steve said quickly because what else would a ‘Thank you’ in this world mean that treated people like stock affordable for everybody to use to satisfy what pleasure and lust dictated them, than a man on his knees in front of another…

Steve felt a cruel shiver run down his spine.

‘You want to move to the…business…directly?’

‘No, for fuck’s sake!’ Steve yelled and ruffled his hair, ‘I don’t – I mean, I said it, I only want to talk to you.’

‘Talk?’

The Soldier looked up at him and Steve did the first thing his instincts told him to do; he fell to his knees, right in front of the man who stared at him through the curtain of his lose hair. The look he received had something both suppliant and somewhat hopeful.

‘You speak Latin, I just heard you,’ Steve began, ‘but we could try if my knowledge of Sarmatian dialects is in any way useful.’

‘You know…Sarmatia?’ the husky voice asked, ‘How?’

‘I spent…a lot of time away from Rome,’ Steve explained, ‘But…right now – I don’t even know your real name; do you mind if I introduce myself? Steve Rogers. I am the new military tribune in Rome.’

‘I know,’ the man muttered, ‘I know. I could see you…you are different. You…didn’t enjoy it…the fights. You wouldn’t let me kill Crossbones – and where did that lead me to? I should have killed him…’

‘Even this man’s life has a value,’ Steve mumbled, ‘It might not be much but it has one. I told him just now: there is no honour in gladiator fights. I don’t want to…they told me it’s important to show presence at social events but I couldn’t bring myself – I just – I feel like I’m failing because the one time I go to see the games I see you…and my whole world just stopped.’

‘Bucky.’

‘Pardon?’

‘That’s my name. Bucky.’

Steve held out a hand for him, ‘Then let’s go, Bucky. I am paying Bruce as soon as we get over there. He should have all the documents ready by now.’

‘Documents?’ Bucky asked bewildered.

‘Documents. I’m paying for it and you can walk away from this place a free man and free to go wherever you want to go,’ Steve explained and pulled him to his feet.

‘Master –‘

‘Don’t…don’t call me that. You are going to be a free man, free men don’t call other men ‘Master’. You can go ahead and do whatever you like. You can go home!’

Bucky looked at him with wide eyes, a spark glinting in his eyes that let Steve know that the other one didn’t approve of being bought out of slavery.

‘You shouldn’t –‘

‘I will!’ Steve grinned.

‘You said I’ll be a free man. As a free man I can…I can…’ Bucky interrupted himself, ‘I can’t, right? You need to pay for me in order to become a free man, right?’

Steve grinned helplessly.

‘But then I owe you,’ Bucky said, his brow furrowed, ‘You want my services for you privately?’

‘What – no!’ Steve rubbed his palms over his eyes.

‘Listen – let’s go, I don’t think you want to stay here any longer, do you? Let’s get Bruce to give you your documents and then you can go,’ he said quietly, ‘I mean…it’s no deal. I would have done it for anybody who looked so much out of place like you…’

‘Rogers,’ Bucky said softly and stepped closer to Steve, looking up at him like he could see the world in his eyes, ‘the others talked about your father. They said it was good to win a Rogers’ favour, they would free you out of pity. Your father almost ruined himself because he bought slaves their freedom, right?’

Steve looked to the side and gulped down a lump in his throat.

‘You are a good man. I could see that from the start,’ Bucky said and came even closer until Steve stood with the back to the wall, ‘I feel we are alike. I trust you.’

‘That’s…good,’ Steve stuttered and tried to back away even more; Bucky’s light eyes unsettled him a great deal, they seemed to him like the other man could see straight into his heart and read every secret feeling he kept there.

‘Yeah,’ Bucky said hoarsely, ‘that’s good.’

He pressed himself to Steve, pushed up on his toes and kissed him. Steve could feel his lips, softer than he had expected and it let his heart stop. It was a simple kiss, lips pressed to lips but full of nerve and emotion he could not put in words.

‘Can free men do that?’ Bucky asked softly when he detached himself from Steve, still looking up at him.

‘Yes, they can,’ Steve whispered and pulled Bucky closer again to press a gentle kiss to the bridge of his nose, ‘Now get out of here!’

 

Bucky followed him, his hand in Steve’s and Steve’s cloak wrapped around his bare shoulders – the things in his cell belonged to Bruce and he hadn’t given them a second look when they had left.

‘Bruce!’ Steve yelled when they entered the main building, ‘The documents please!’

For a moment he thought he had begun to imagine things but the fierce warrior he had seen fight chuckled behind his back. Bruce hurried into his office and handed Steve a stack of papers.

‘It is a shame really,’ he sighed, ‘Good fighter I am losing today…but I do not want to keep Steve Rogers from his happiness…nor want I face your sword against me, Steve. Do you want to pay with him in the room or…’

‘Bruce,’ Steve growled, ‘He has a name. You should know it, you bought Bucky in the first place.’

Judging by Bruce’s facial expression he really hadn’t known Bucky’s name which only fuelled Steve’s hatred for rich Roman citizens who didn’t give a shit about those they called savages a little more.

‘Let’s be over with it,’ he sighed instead, Bruce was his friend after all, ‘Show me, I’ll pay.’

He noticed how Bucky hid his face behind his hair again to shield his look from the desk where Bruce showed Steve the sum on paper. Steve paid and grabbed Bucky’s hand afterward.

‘We’ll see each other,’ he said to Bruce and turned.

Bucky followed him again, this time towards the gate. Steve waved for his horse and watched with a smirk how Bucky straightened himself, looking prouder than before, more like the Sarmatian tribe’s prince he had imagined after Bruce had told his story for the first time.

‘Are you alright with…riding with me?’ Steve asked and looked around.

Bucky had already stepped next to the horse, stroking its neck and whispering in its ear. Steve felt the smile breaking out on his lips, he rested one hand on Bucky’s shoulder and kissed his neck under the hem of the cloak.

‘We should get going, I need to introduce you to my mother; we need to get a room ready for you, and I want you to forget about this time as quickly as possible. I mean…if you want you can go home by tomorrow, you will need to rest!’

‘There is no home left,’ Bucky whispered and leaned his head back to Steve’s chest, ‘They are dead, all of them. There is nothing left for me. Besides…it’d rather be here with a good man like you…who knows I might be able to teach you something new.’

The smile on his luscious lips could was irresistible and seductive. Steve felt something warm bloom in his guts, he mounted his horse and helped Bucky climb behind him.

‘Your horse loves you,’ Bucky whispered, his voice breathy, ‘You truly must be a great man and warrior.’

The only reason why Steve didn’t turn around was his understanding of the warriors of the north. To see them cry was something so intimate that he didn’t dare to claim for himself.

‘She has been through a lot with me,’ Steve answered quietly.

‘She loves you,’ Bucky said, ‘what reason is there for me not to love you as well…’

Steve felt his breath hitch. A hand found its way to his hip and he smiled.

 

~*~

 

His mother loved Bucky as soon as she set eyes on him. She insisted on getting him his own new, clean clothes and on introducing him to all the slaves in the house.

Loki and Thor cheered loudly and clapped Steve on the shoulders.

‘Well done, my friend,’ Thor roared, ‘Let’s hope I don’t have to carry you to bed any longer!’

Steve noticed the way Bucky looked at him after he heard this exclamation. He looked grimly over at Steve, his eyes sparkling with the jealousy of a man that had regained his pride.

 

Steve managed to explain how his mother’s guard had come to get him into bed, but he paid for it anyway. It was the first night they spent together and Steve learned how much Bucky appreciated marking him.

 

Bucky didn’t grow to like Rome which Steve’s mother knew before him and when he came home with Bucky one evening after both of them had trained Steve’s new unit – Bucky knew a great deal about both Roman and Germanic warfare – she greeted them with the purchase agreement over an estate close to Ostia that allowed her to breathe sea air again  but still was close enough to the city for Steve and Bucky to look after their tasks within the army and administration. The domus and shop were given into the care of Demetrius and those slaves that had manned the shop before, ‘until Steve has enough of the fighting,’ as his mother used to say.

Steve had kissed her cheek, telling her that day wasn’t very likely to come soon but her only response had been to smile at him, a squeeze of Bucky’s hand, and a reminder for them to look into Rome’s orphanages as soon as possible.

Steve felt at rest. With Bucky at his side he had become an outsider in Rome’s society but reliable sources – Scott and Tony – had let him known that he was silently admired for his brave decision to follow his heart alone and pledge himself to a former slave.

Every day he woke up next to Bucky’s wild mane covering his face in sleep, he felt it had been the right decision. He didn’t think about Bucky as a former slave.

When he looked at Bucky all he saw was the man he loved.


End file.
